Voices In The Dark

By Caridee Li and Nadia Ng

Stanley jolted upright, waking up in a state of panic, getting startled out of his slumber into a place he didn't recognise.

“Where am I?” he stuttered to himself, feeling his chest rapidly go up and down in a frenzy as he crawled off the unfamiliar bed he had somehow ended up in. He looked around him cautiously as if there was going to be something jumping in front of him to scare him.

“Hello? Is this a prank? This is not funny,” he questioned, desperately trying to believe that what was in front of him was just some sick set-up joke. He examined the contents of his surroundings. The dark room was mostly empty with only a bed, a desk placed under the window across from the bed, and a bookcase set against the wall just merely touching the desk.

“Cross …,” whispered an unknown voice. Stanley’s eyes grew wide and he shrieked in fear as he heard this deep and raspy voice come out of nowhere. He sprinted off to the corner of the dark room, hiding from what he thought was an intruder’s voice.

After a few minutes, he got up trying to act brave, trying to convince himself that everything was supposed to be there when the absolute truth was that it was not. Stanley needed something to distract himself so he grabbed a book off of the desk near the bed. He could hear the voices screaming inside his head to just go for it, get to the door, and get out of this horrible mess. He made a beeline to the door closing his eyes hoping to reach the other side when he felt himself hitting the ground as he fell off.

Wait, what? What, he fell off? Where did he fall off from? Everything disappeared in an instant. Every detail and speck of dust was gone and disintegrated into thin air. Stanly drifted off into a white void not daring to say a single word until he finally reached the ground.

All there was, was a rickety old run-down wooden rope bridge hanging over a hollow space of nothing, leading off into a doorway of light with a broken exit sign on top of it that somewhat looked like the human figure in it was running into the door that the dimly lit sign displayed. Stanley stood there for a moment staring blankly into the mass of the infinite space in front of him, trying to process only the past few minutes when suddenly a voice interrupted his ever-growing thoughts.

“The bridge,” it said. Stanley could feel the chills crawling up his back the moment the soft monotone whispering voice hit his eardrums and echoed through his head. The voice had an eerie static that was too disturbing to even picture a person, maybe even impossible, seeing as the voice was so extraordinary in an unpleasant way that when you were to think of a face to pair it with it would look like a painting you had messed up and ruined.

“Who are you?” he questioned himself almost silently as if he thought that the voice could still hear him even if he made the tiniest little squeak.

“Cross the bridge,” was all he got in reply. Stanley felt the sudden urge to start moving his body. Spotting an exit, he examined the door carefully, thinking up a plan to get across the wooden rope bridge. He concluded that the best way to get there was to carefully step on each of the planks connected by the rope leading to the other side.

He took a step closer to the bridge and lightly set one foot on the first plank of the bridge, lifting his other foot slowly, trying to keep his balance. Stanley could feel himself tipping slightly to his left but managed to catch himself. He started to walk on the bridge hoping it wouldn't betray him and fall apart. As he was walking, he reached his leg over the missing planks when he heard something.

The wooden board snapped, swaying the bridge side to side violently. Stanley held on to the rope for his life, frantically leaping through the air, trying to catch on to the rope on the other side of the bridge that was hanging over the side of the nothingness beneath it. He caught the rope and climbed up the bridge like it was a ladder.

There he was, standing in front of the door. Stanley was out of breath but still tried his best to stay quiet. Hesitantly, he slowly and carefully placed his fingers just beyond the door frame of blazing light. It felt cold and it had a strange feeling to it almost as if it were alive.

Stanley felt like he was getting lightly pulled into it, well maybe because it was. The “light” in the doorway stretched out its tentacles and wrapped itself around him, not letting him escape or even breathe. As Stanley got dragged in, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier until eventually, he closed his eyes and passed out.

His eyes soon flickered open as he found himself in another peculiar situation.

“Cross … the Bridge … …”

To be continued…