Where Am I?

The very last thing that I remember is the flicker of the antiquated neon sign: “Roy’s Repair – Phones Fixed Fast.” I have walked into this awful shack with a busted phone in hand- the screen shattered, with the battery barely holding a charge. The man behind the counter- tall, skinny, and piercing with eyes that see straight through me- just gave one look at my device and, without further ado, said: “This is going to take quite a while. You’ll have to wait.”

I nodded, unsure why I felt a strange unease in his presence. Some faint buzzing overhead dim light cast odd shadows on the walls – I sat on an unsteady chair, unlike those that might collapse if you breathed the air wrong. However, with the day I had just experienced, tiredness overwhelmed me, and my lids became heavy.

When I woke, the shop was empty.

The walls, once covered in posters and shelves of phone cases, were bare. The counter was gone. Even the neon sign had vanished. My heart raced as I stumbled to my feet, calling out.

“Hello? Roy? Anyone?”

My voice echoed strangely, swallowed by the space. The door was still there, slightly open, but outside was… nothing. No street, no cars, no people. Just an endless expanse of gray mist.

I stepped outside, shivering despite the lack of wind. Every direction looked the same, an infinite void. I turned back toward the shop, only to find it gone. In its place stood a narrow alleyway with tall brick walls on either side, leading somewhere I couldn’t see.

It was an inviting alley, but I paused. I instinctively yelled not to go, but there was no other option. My feet went forward, with every step sounding hollowly touched. The smell of damp bricks perfumed the atmosphere. 

As I walked, faint whispers began to surface. At first, I thought it was just me seeing things – muffled tones like haze, and the segments seemed to be from some distant conversations. However, as I advanced, the voices became louder. 

And then I saw it. 

At the street’s end, just at the end of the alley, there was a door – a bright red door, faintly glowing in the dimness. It was very strange and, above all, out of place; it belonged to a house and not to this miserable prison. A plaque next to it read: “Find the truth to exit. Lose yourself to remain.”

Making an effort to suppress my shaky grip on the cold doorknob, I paused indoors, rubbed my persuading sweaty hands and dared to peep within the house- exactly the time when the whispers would go mute. They became unbelievably silent, such that the quietness deafened my ears. Then came a whisper behind me: “You shouldn’t have come here.” 

I spun around to find my heart racing in my chest. The alley was empty.

“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice trembling. No reply. Only silence, thick and suffocating.

I turned back to the door. Its faint glow seemed to pulse, almost as if it were alive. The cryptic words on the plaque haunted me: “Find the truth to exit.”

I took a deep breath, twisted the handle, and walked through. 

On the opposite side, I appeared to be standing on what seemed like a little charming sunlit street with cobblestones that stretched into the distance. On either side of the street stood cozy little cottages. The air was warm, carrying the slightest whiff of lavender. It was all a little too much of an anomaly when compared with the alley I’d just been through.

A man in a tweed suit approached me, tipping his hat with a warm smile. “Ah, a new face,” he said. “Welcome to KalpaVriksha. You must be lost.“

“Lost?” I echoed, still disoriented. “I… I was in a phone repair shop, and then—“

“A phone repair shop?” He chuckled softly. “I’m afraid there’s no such thing here. But no matter. You’re safe now. Why don’t you join us at the square? Everyone gathers there.“

He pointed down the street to where I could see people talking and laughing. Beautiful as it stemmed from a picture-perfect scene, it all felt wrong- too unflawless. 

“I don’t belong in that place,” I stepped back, saying. 

“I don’t think any of us belong here,” he replied, the smile faltering a little and becoming quite faint. “You’ll come to understand in time.“

Reluctantly, I followed him to the square. There were these people who put me on the edge every time I saw their grinning faces with white teeth and shining eyes. By now, however, I was so curious to know from them what all the places were and how I got here, but all they could tell me sounded like a cowardly piece of nonsense.

The city started to empty with the sunset, much like the square was now dreary with myself alone. That’s when I grew aware of the clock tower. Its hands were spinning wildly, faster than time should move. Beneath it, a memorial tablet caught my eye: “Every question costs a piece of you.”

A chill ran through me.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice behind me said. I turned to see a woman, dressed in a simple white dress, her expression serious. Unlike the others, she didn’t smile.

“I need to leave,” I said. “Can you help me?”

She studied me for a long moment. “Do you remember what you came here to fix?“

Her question struck me like a blow. The phone. I pulled it from my pocket, surprised to find it whole. The screen wasn’t cracked anymore; the battery was full. But something was wrong with it.

The screen flickered to life, showing me… myself. Not my reflection, but a recording. In the video, I was standing in the very square where I now stood, holding a knife in my hand. My clothes were stained with blood.

“What is this?” I gasped, my hands trembling.

“It’s the truth,” she said softly.

The memories came flooding back. I wasn’t here to fix my phone. I was running—from a crime I couldn’t face. The phone had recorded everything, the final moments of someone I had—

No. I couldn’t think about it.

“You can still leave,” the woman said, her voice gentle but firm. “But it will cost you.“

“What cost?“

“You’ll forget. Everything. Who you are, what you’ve done. You’ll be free… but hollow.“

The ground beneath me began to tremble, the idyllic town crumbling away to reveal the endless gray void beneath. The red door appeared again, glowing brighter this time.

“Choose,” she said.

I stood frozen, the truth tearing me apart. Step through the door and forget—or stay and face what I’d done.

The whispers returned, louder now, urging me to decide.

As I reached for the door, I realized the ultimate twist: the woman’s voice was my own.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the phone repair shop. The neon sign buzzed overhead, the counter was in its rightful place, and the wiry man stood in front of me, holding my phone.

“You’re done,” he said, sliding it across the counter. His piercing eyes met mine, and for a moment, they seemed to glint with something knowing.

I hesitated before picking up the phone. But eventually, I saw that it still looked just like how I brought it—cracked screen, dead battery. 

“Thanks,” I mumbled to myself, before sliding the phone into my pocket and heading towards the door.

But as I stepped outside, a police car pulled up to the control. Two officers got out, their eyes locking onto mine.

“Excuse me,” one of them said, pulling out a photograph. “You match the description of someone we’re looking for. We’d like to ask you a few questions about a man named Roy Darby.”

Roy. The name struck me like lightning. My mind raced, fragments of memory flashing in and out—the neon sign, the knife, the blood. Roy.

Before I knew it, I had stepped back with my heart palpitating. I stumbled out, “I don’t know who that is.“

The officer’s gaze hardened. “Is that so? Then why is your name in his appointment book?”

The door to the repair shop slammed shut behind me, the neon sign flickering out. I turned back, but the shop was gone.

I was left standing alone on the empty street, my heart heavy with the weight of what I couldn’t remember—or perhaps didn’t want to.

And in my pocket, my phone buzzed.

When I pulled it out, the screen lit up with a message:

“Find the truth to exit.”

And beneath it, a single video began to play: me, holding the knife, my hands trembling.

The cycle wasn’t over.

[Black Out]