Rahul opened his eyes, head heavy with sleep. He was expecting the buzz of voices, or the light rustle of papers, as his classmates moved to the next lesson. But the silence was frightening, it was absolute silence.
He sat straight and looked around the room. The classroom was as it should be: rows of wooden desks, sunlight shining in through the windows, and the chalkboard at the front. But something was not right. The students were frozen, slumped over their desks, bodies unnaturally including their heads.
“Ravi?” Rahul whispered and his voice trembled.
He reached out to nudge Ravi, his best friend sitting beside him at the desk. His fingers brushed against Ravi’s arm. It was cold—ice cold. Panic surged in Rahul’s chest. Ravi wasn’t breathing. None of them were.
“Okay, okay… this is a dream,” Rahul muttered, his voice trembling. He pinched himself hard, the sharp sting confirming the worst: this wasn’t a dream. Or, if it were so, it wasn’t one he could wake from.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly. He turned to it, only to see its hands frozen at 12:15. The sound wasn’t coming from the clock. It was coming from somewhere else.
The notebook on the table had a neat covering with a beige envelope. It sat sulking itself as it seemed to wait by itself. All this while, Rahul had been staring, twisting on the inside like a coiling snake. It had not been there before, slowly he picked it up, it felt warm, pulsing slightly as if it had a heartbeat.
He then opened it. A piece of parchment was found on the inside, the words written on it were handwritten blue in red ink, which looked disturbingly like dried blood.
“Escape before dawn or be trapped forever. Trust your instincts, and beware of the echoes of your fear.”
His hands trembled as he reread the words. What did it mean? Escape from what? Where was he?
It had choked in the classroom: the whole atmosphere felt compressed and stinging, and the streaks of hazy winds heralded a shift in their seasons. The clear glass of windows in the past became alabaster in swirling gray smoke. Captured by that cobwebby environment, he dashed to the door jerking at the handle in vain.
Then the voice whispered so soft that it barely registered – brushed against his ear: “Library. Now.”
Rahul froze, his heart pounding. He spun around, but the room was empty. The whisper came again, insistent, clearer this time: “Library. Now.”
The Library’s Secret
It was a dimly lit corridor, above where the fluorescent lights flickered quietly. Shadows seemed to live and slice on the move with him. Every step he took echoed unnaturally, the sound amplifying and distorting as if the building was alive.
Each classroom door he passed was locked, their windows fogged over with swirling patterns. Rahul’s breathing grew shallow. He felt as if something, some entity that was invisible yet ever-present, was following him closely.
The doors of the library burst open at his coming. It was only for a sudden second that these creaking hinges held still; their creak sounded like a scream in the silence.
The library was unrecognizable. In the real world, it was a modest room with rows of neatly arranged shelves. It was endless, here, stretching the shelves high up into the darkness. The air was suffused with the scent of old paper and something faintly metallic, like rust.
At the very heart of the room, a small wooden table stood bathed in the illumination of one flickering light. The table housed a journal, its leather cover cracked and worn with age. Rahul hesitated before approaching. Something about the journal felt wrong as if it was waiting for him.
He opened it, the pages filled with frantic handwriting and cryptic symbols.
“You are caught in a collective dream,“ it says. “This world is no more than a reflection of your mind, shaped by your fears and worries. One can escape it but only when one has fought through the trials thereby. Trust your instincts. Overcome your fear, or be consumed by it.”
Rahul’s pulse quickened. A dream? Shared by whom? And what was the reason why he couldn’t awaken?
Just then the lights went off, shutting him out of further thought. Everything just went into darkness.
The bookshelves were shifting and groaning down mega pathways. It seemed to rearrange itself. When the lights came back on, the library had vanished, replaced by a narrow corridor lined with mirrors.
The Hall of Reflections
Rahul hesitated, his reflection staring back at him from every angle. The mirrors stretched endlessly, creating the illusion of a thousand Rahuls trapped in an infinite loop.
He took a cautious step forward. His reflection moved with him, perfectly synchronized.
At first, they seemed normal. But as he ventured deeper into the hallway, the reflections began to change.
The ghouls contorted their faces and suddenly their eyes shone with a deep red hue. Their grins stretched unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth.
Then they moved.
“No, No, No!” Rahul turned and ran, his heart pounding. But the mirrors stretched endlessly, and the reflections stepped out of the glass, their movements jerky and unnatural.
“Stop running,” one of them hissed, its voice distorted and echoing. “You can’t escape yourself.”
Rahul stumbled, his mind racing. The journal’s words flashed in his memory: “Fear is fuel. Face it, and it loses its power.”
He skidded to a halt, breath gasping. Then he turned to face the twisted versions of himself and yelled: “You’re not real! You’re just… illusions!”
The reflections paused, their glowing eyes flickering. The shattered glass shard from the ground emboldened Rahul to throw it on the nearest mirror. The glass broke to pieces, while other mirrors broke with it to dissolve the reflection into dust.
The hallway faded, leaving Rahul alone in the library once more. The journal glowed faintly in his hands.
The Maze of Illusions
The trembling floor gave way suddenly below Rahul, not even allowing him a fraction of a second to react. He screamed as he fell into the dark.
He landed right in the middle of a maze. The walls were impossibly high and covered in arcane symbols that beat softly with a pulse. The air was thick and suffocative, making it impossible to breathe.
Here he wandered through the maze for what seemed like hours, and where he turned, he returned to the starting point. With every step, the walls rearranged themselves, and he found himself trapped in an endless cycle.
Then, faint whispers filled the air: “Follow the light within.”
“What light?” Rahul muttered, frustration bubbling up.
He had shut his eyes and made himself attentive. Gradually, he became conscious of the slight warmth in his chest, and when he opened his eyes after that, golden footprints appeared on the floor.
“Okay,“ he said, his steadiness rising. “Here goes nothing.”
He followed the glowing trail, but the maze fought back. Spikes began sprouting from the walls of his cell and stretched dangerously close to his face. The ground beneath his feet collapsed down into space limits infinite. Shadowy things raced along the edges of his periphery, whispering threats and doubts.
“You’ll never make it,” they hissed. “You’re not strong enough.”
His fists formed tight balls as he tried to consciously ignore them all. Step after step he marched on the golden trail until the end of the maze – a spiral staircase running up into darkness.
The Tower of Trust
The staircase was narrow and steep, winding endlessly into the void. They just disappeared, the steps behind him, and he had to keep climbing.
It got colder, and the darkness closed around him, making it difficult to see. Ahead, part of the stairs vanished completely, leaving a gaping hole.
“You must trust in yourself,“ the words from the journal said.
“You’re kidding, right?“ muttered Rahul.
He took a deep breath, stepped back, then sprinted and leaped. For a terrifying moment, he fell, but an unseen force arrested his fall, shooting him to the next step.
The gaps grew wider as he climbed, the jumps more precarious. Each one felt like a test of faith, forcing Rahul to confront his doubts.
Finally, he reached the top, where a glowing portal awaited. But standing in front of it was someone—or something.
The Final Test
The figure was identical to him but darker. Its eyes glowed red, and its smirk was cruel.
“Going somewhere?” it asked, its voice dripping with mockery.
Rahul clenched his fists. “Get out of my way.”
The double had laughed. It laughed with a deep, menacing tone. “You don’t know why you have come here, do you? This is not only a dream. It’s a prison—a trap for people like you who doubt themselves. You’ll never escape because deep down, you don’t believe you can.”
The words hit hard, and for a moment, Rahul hesitated. Was it right? Could he do this?
“Not at all,” he at last said while shaking his head. “Wrong. I have already come this far. That’s proof enough.”
The doppelgänger’s smirk faltered. “You’re still afraid.”
“Maybe,” Rahul admitted. “But that’s okay. Fear doesn’t control me.”
With a final burst of determination, Rahul charged at his reflection. The two clashed in a violent battle, each blow striking with the force of a lifetime’s worth of fears and doubts. But Rahul was different now—stronger, more certain of himself.
“You’re just a part of me,” he said, his voice steady. “I control you.”
With one final push, he sent the doppelgänger crashing to the ground. The dark figure dissolved into mist, and the portal flared with light.
The Escape
Rahul stepped into the portal, and the whole world around him crumbled into light.
When his eyes opened up, he was back in the classroom. The clock ticked normally, and all of his classmates chattered as if nothing had happened.
But Rahul knew better. The journal, warm against his chest, was proof.
When he stepped out of the classroom, he saw a faint spiral symbol engraved on the wall. It glowed slightly, a reminder that the journey was not over yet.
Rahul smiled to himself. “Round one complete,” he murmured. “Let’s see what’s next.”
