MOVIMasta

       As I finish the note, the reality of what has happened finally hits me, and I stumble backwards, catching myself on a desk. I realize that this is NOT a dream, and I HAVE been imprisoned. The desk sits inside another room through an arch. In it there is also a couch, and a mattress on the floor. I lower myself down into the couch, and lay my head in my hands. The thought never occurred to me that I might have done something to provoke this, but now I think back through my life, searching for a reason. Was there someone I wronged, someone I let down? No. My one accomplishment in life has been to not stand out, not cause trouble, and not

I lay myself down to sleep in my decrepit bed after a long day at my dead end job. When i wake up after six hours of restless sleep, something is horribly wrong. This is not my bed; this is not my bedroom; this is not my house. As i lift my head i see some other strange things. There are three doorways in the otherwise normal looking room. One of the doors emanates a soft glow which, strangely, does not light the room, but consumes all the darkness that enters it. The other two doors are black and appear only to lead to darkness. Now, i am not a very religious man, but i am god fearing, if you can fathom that. i do not raise my hands to the

Surrounded by people, i cannot pretend, I hate you all, when will this end? I must get away, be on my own. I dispose this arrangement, my time on lone. Every person feels this way. Every person, every day. But we hold it down; we try to look up; and we know to survive we must see our cup as not full or empty, or as big or small, but as however YOU see it, and keep our heads tall. For when one becomes meek he becomes small. And when he becomes irate he is pushed away rum us all. So we pull ourselves together and we brave the nasty weather. We carry on under the weight because in life we cannot wait.