I have a fear of taking elevators alone. Something about being swallowed into a strong metal cage and either lifted or lowered with nothing but empty space beneath, putting all trust in the cables above puts me on edge. I do alright if I have company. Someone to distract me from the fear building up in the back of my head. But when I am the only one, when all I hear is the clang and rumble of unsure lifting equipment muffled poorly by the tunes inside, I can’t stand it.

I was in Korea last week and my roommate wanted me to grab something for her from downstairs before the evening curfew.

“You want what?” I called back uncertainly as I crossed the threshold of our room.

“Just some chromium oxide,” she trilled back, “for my health.”

Suzanne was a weak little thing. Poor dear. Turned up at a street corner in Tokyo claiming to have discovered the key to “marked existence”, whatever that was. Probably just the result of trauma from tabooed childhood experiences. A few days in the psychiatric ward of the city hospital and unworldly doses of complicated medicines brought her back to herself. Yet there was no undoing the mischievous dreamy gleam in her eyes, like she knew far more than she let loose. I shook my head as I shut the door to our hotel room and walked away.

There were no stairs in the building, so I plodded slowly to the elevator. Though every inch of me was screaming to turn around, I walked into the horrible empty box and doors clanged shut. Six floors had never felt so long. I scrambled out as soon as the cage set me free, gulping for fresh open air, at least air that was not stuffed inside that horrifying elevator. I had some trouble finding the chromium oxide Susanne requested. After a fruitless scan of the aisles and a rather awkward conversation with the man behind the counter, I purchased a small vial containing a lime green powder. How could this help with health? Oh well, Suzanne is Suzanne and there is nothing anyone could do about that. I cautiously stepped in the elevator again and focused on an extremely interesting gnat as the doors closed, locking me inside.

My anxiety once more mounted through the roof. But I was only going up six floors.

Elevator music was so stress-relieving! Of course, soap operas were never interesting on TV or the radio, but this particularly boring one soothed my nerves for the first four floors. I closed my eyes and let myself drift back and forth to the sway of the drowsy tune. Then suddenly it clicked off. At the same time, there was a screeching, then a jolt. I lost both my footing and my presence of mind. I had stopped moving.

The doors remained shut. I was trapped. I was alone. Alone. Trapped. Trapped in an elevator. Alone. My breathing quickened. All was silent now but for my anxious breaths and racking heartbeat. I waited for years. Maybe it was only a few seconds. Either way, the suspense rapidly increased my terror. I could not bear this! This waiting! This impending doom! The cable would snap and I would plummet! But the nothing, the waiting, it was just too much! Something, ANYTHING, had to happen and had to happen now!! NOW, before I completely lost my sanity! It could NOT have been worse.

I was wrong.

A slow creaking—I jerked around, searching frantically for the source. It stopped. I felt helpless, like some wild animal caught in a trap, already given in to the fact that it was already dead.

A clang—I gripped the handrail and tried in vain to slow my breathing. I was in fight or flight and neither could work right then, so I was stuck with the unending anxiety for what was to come.

A smashing crash—I lost myself completely. Eyes blacked over with fear, brain swathed in terror, I heard myself screaming from far away. Again, and again, and again I heard my screams. I was completely unaware of anything else that was happening, the single sound of crash imprinted firmly in my mind’s eye.

“Stop,” I heard myself say, and, miraculously, I obeyed. Something about hearing my own voice, calm and unconcerned, brought me slamming back from horror into reality. The silence had returned. The source of the crash became evident immediately: a ceiling panel had fallen in, leaving a cloud of dust around where it had landed.

But that wasn’t the only unwelcome guest.

There was a figure clothed all in shiny black, face covered in a mask of the same color, standing to its feet and brushing the dust off its clothes. A black utility belt, fully stocked, was strung around its hips. But I only had eyes for one thing—the thing that rattled slowly and gleamed in the eerie light: the gun slung in its holster.

It was like living a nightmare. I lost myself again. Never before had anything frightened me to this level. I would not have dreamed it possible that I would lose myself to insanity in the face of such monstrous terror. I was entirely unaware of anything, everything, except the thoughts that vainly chased the visions of my poor mangled bloody body out of my head. From out of the dark fog, I heard my voice again. It brought me back to myself. I gulped and stared. My mind cleared and I saw the elevator button panel in front of me, and my hands were frantically pounding the floor numbers in the vain hope that the shaft would continue moving or the doors would open.

“Quit slamming buttons,” the mask snarled patiently, “You know it’s not going to work.”

Funny enough, I did know. I stopped, still sobbing, still shivering, my eyes rooted to the floor. I was never going to use the elevator again.

“Hand it over,” and I felt the figure extend its arm in my direction.

I looked up past the outstretched hand and stared past it as if into the face through the mask. I was stunned. I felt my fingers fumbling mechanically for the flask of chromium oxide tucked in my jacket pocket. I felt my arm trembling as it reached the figure’s ringent gloved hand and dumped the vial into it. My mind was elsewhere. I knew that voice. But no, it couldn’t be….

“I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it can be—because it is.”

I shut my eyes and turned away with my hands over my ears. I could not bear the presence of this mind-reading psychopath. I must be hallucinating out of sheer terror. This wasn’t real. I could not believe it. Yet a small voice in my head told me there was no denying it.

A big voice outside my head told me too:

“I am not a hallucination, nor am I something to deny. No matter how much you dislike it, this is how it is. I would tell you everything here and now, but time is short. Ready?”

All of a sudden, I knew what was coming. I couldn’t pretend any longer. I desperately wanted to say no, but by then I realized I had no choice. I nodded, eyes still glued shut. I shifted my hands and peered through my fingers as the figure removed its mask. Though I had already known, the shock of seeing it in reality reconfirmed my horror. It also somehow added to it. The figure was me.

A dead me, a demented me, a changed me, a me that did not exist in my memory, but still me.

A horrible me. Her expressionless face shone pale and waxy, dark circles under her baggy eyes. There were minimal lashes and her eyebrows were scant. Her staring eyes shown glassy cold, like a demon’s, but devoid of all fiery zeal. Her lips were the same pale as her skin, but maybe touched with blue—lips like those of a corpse. Her mangy hair ran thick and wild, but grayed and sparse. She looked altogether like a cadaver in a black jumpsuit, dead for years, somehow untouched, and fresh out of the coffin.

“Now I’m really sorry about this,” she said cooly, “but it will all be over soon and you will be on my side of it.”

What did she mean? I asked myself in a frenzy, I mean, what did I mean? I was horrified, shocked, and confused, and desperately wishing that I had refused Suzanne her cursed chromium oxide. But a part of me was curious as to how this had happened.

Almost in response to my thoughts—something told me it was—,“Let me tell you briefly,” she said in icy tones that were probably meant to be kind.

“I know you. I know what it’s like to be you. Heck, I WAS you. Until that fateful day when I met my future self in the elevator. I was on your side of this, and now I’m on mine. You are young, you are afraid. Afraid of what you did, what you became, what you are. I am not a serial killer in the modern sense of the term. I am a creation born of your essence. I have your history, your physical traits, your likes and dislikes, but I do not have your weakness. Instead, I am instilled with invulnerable strength. I am the you you have always dreamed of becoming.”

She raised her head slightly as she said this, as if proud of her dilapidated, lifeless body. A cold shiver tingled down my spine. I broke down and cried tears of pain, horror, and longing. I never dreamed of becoming the monster standing so proudly across from me. I almost felt sorry for her—I mean me…then what particles of color remained in my face disappeared.

“Thanks to a nameless woman you will soon have the pleasure” (she scoffed) “of working with, that dream is now a reality. She will change you to unlock your full potential. She will gift you with her trust and benevolence. Or so you must believe,” the future me spat bitterly. “She is not what she appears to be. She is not a congenial scientist interested in you for your own good. What she is, you will discover for yourself in due time. I cannot explain it here. But it is important that as soon as you ascertain her secret, you flee for your life. You must leave the…place where she has you stay and come straight here. Come here to this elevator. Stop it, break in, then tell this story to the past you standing on the other side. Do you understand me?”

Still shivering, still moaning and heaving, I slowly, slowly lowered my head, then raised it again ever so slightly. I understood nothing of what she said, but I did understand that our engagement was coming to an end. I thought if I just kept nodding in agreement, she would leave.

I had never been so mistaken in my life.

She looked at me intently, expressionless as usual but with a trace of sadness etched in her brow. She continued speaking, slowly this time. Every word fell like a blow. “Then you will arrive at the most difficult part of all,” and she suddenly drew and raised the gleaming gun from her holster. “Shooting yourself.”

And her voice broke.

I screamed. I would have swooned clean away if I had the time. My future self seemed to know that, so she shot me then and there. I felt the pain, felt the blood. It hurt, and I was frightened beyond anything I had ever dreamed. I crumpled to the ground, my own blood pooling around me, trapping me in a sticky red mass. I felt myself dying…slipping away. I looked up at my murderer helplessly, terrified for what was to come. I fell unconscious.

_____________________________________________________________

The elevator dinged and the number 7 gleamed brightly in the poorly lit halls. The doors to the shaft opened to admit the horrendous sound of the music, continuing to play its dreamy melody. I stepped out onto the carpeted floor, completely fearless: completely knowing. I proceeded calmly to room 718, where Suzanne lay expecting me to walk in with her chromium oxide. I flicked the key card across the locking monitor, which flashed green and clicked open. My hand closed on the handle. I opened the door silently and strode calmly in.

There she lay, lounging unconcernedly on the closer of the two beds. She had been writing in her “diary” when I entered. Her sparkly little-girl journal rested open on the bed in front of her and she was sucking the end of a pink pen strung with feathers and bits of fluff. She was unaware of my presence.

My deranged dead eyes wandered for only a couple seconds, then fixed upon hers, which were turned downwards at her journal. I shot a message through the sky, just as she had taught me, and “Suzanne” looked up and met my eyes.

They locked for several long moments. For a split second, there was nonchalance. Then uncertainty. Then a look of utmost terror. She knew I knew. She tumbled from her bed, streaked like a demon to the window and was just ready to spring through it, glass and all, when a loud and smoky bang issued from just in front of me. Before she had the chance to slip through my fingers yet again, I pulled my gun, still hot, and shot her.

She collapsed on the sill.

I walked slowly over to where she lay dying, hatred burning from her fiery eyes so quickly losing their vivacity. Killing was my job. I was used to it by now, but I had never dreamed my targets would change direction. I peered down at my victim. Our eyes locked yet again. She attempted to say something but it came only a gargle, for a flood of clotted blood came pouring from her mouth. She was choking, drifting fast. If only I could make her pain last longer…

Her life ebbed away all too quickly, her eyes turned glassy and cold. Quid pro quo. The blood issuing from her mouth lapsed to a trickle. She had a few seconds at most.

“You will ruin no more lives, no more helpless souls,” I said in a cold voice barely above a whisper, “Your selfish cruel career is ended. If only I could change the past.”

wine spilled in the color of roses

a ring left on the table where the bottle once stood.

next to the last remnants

of yesterday's tv dinner.

he does not know that yesterday has

come and gone

because he is still engaged

in dreams

of wolves

chasing him down

and gnawing at his ribs.

yet it's

not a nightmare

because

without his heart he can finally embrace

the apathy that hovers at the edge of his vision.

swallowing its sweet poison like candy

as the wolves dine on what remains of his feelings,

a bubbly mess, shame and anger

and they celebrate at the taste of

repression finally boiling over

emotions that have been pent up forever.

he wakes up

with apathy straddling his forehead

and a newfound love

of wolves.

The King and Queen had been waiting for what felt like an eternity to have a child. Years have gone by without any luck nor sign of such a blessing. Finally, after years of trying, they were blessed with a child. A beautiful baby girl, with golden blond hair and lovely violet eyes. The two were ecstatic at the birth of their beloved daughter and decided to host a grand celebration in her honor.

The celebration came, with all coming to give gifts and blessings to the newborn baby princess. Three fairies came, two of them giving the young baby the gifts of beauty and the gifts of song. However, before the third fairy could give her gift to the princess a cloud of black smoke appeared. Out of the smoke came a horrible voice, and two sets of gleaming green eyes.

After a brief moment, the figures holding those sets of eyes stepped out of the smoke. One was tall and thin, with singed black hair and charred skin, an ever-present grief-filled look on its face. The other figure was a large black raven, feathers shimmering with rainbow colors in the light, yet the ends of its feathers looked as if they had been caught by some fire.

"You didn't invite me." The first figure spoke, taking another step out of the smoke.

"I heard about this wonderful news secondhand." It continued, taking another step towards the crib which held the princess.

"I was so disappointed when I heard because I wish I had heard from you." Now at the side of the princess's cradle, the figure turned to lock eyes with the king and queen.

"I am overjoyed for you both, such a blessing she is. I too wish to give her a gift."

There were screams and cries as the creature spoke. Its appearance is that of a charred body dressed in ornate feathered cloaks, and its voice that of a haunted child. Guards were rushed in, but it was too late. For the feathered creature had begun to lay its gift onto the child.

"May you indeed be blessed with both beauty and song, may your life be forever sweet and long. May you live many fruitful years, full of grace. May you soon prick your finger on a spinning wheel's spindle and fall into a peaceful forever sleep. Never to be woken by this world's cruelty."

A flash of light, blinding and vile, was spread across the room. When it cleared the smoke had once again started to pile up, swallowing the figure whole. "Happy birthday, little princess." It sing-songed hauntingly as it disappeared into the mist, leaving the banquet hall and its horrified guests.

Once the smoke fully cleared the king and queen raced towards the crib, picking up their small daughter. The two were distraught over the curse that was laid onto their small precious child.

Panic ensued, guests being ushered out by guards as the King and Queen wept over their child's apparent fate. Finally, after most of the commotion faded, the third fairy flitted forward and offered her gift. She and the other two fairies were not able to lift the curse, but the third would be able to alter it. The curse was changed, having it so that the princess wouldn't be pricked until her sixteenth birthday, and it changed it from being an eternal sleep with no hope of waking, into a peaceful slumber that would be awoken with true love's kiss.

This calmed the parents, though the king and queen were still paranoid about their daughter's safety. So they commanded that all spinning wheels were to be burned and that the princess was to be taken away and hidden far from the heinous creature's eyes and reach.

And so, the beautiful princess Aurora was taken to live in a beautiful summer cottage that was owned by the royal family. She was raised amongst her own personal servants, guards, and three fairies who were her nannies and caretakers.

Seasons changed and soon years passed, the small baby now a child of five. She had always been a curious thing, wandering around as much as possible. One day, during these wanderings, she happened upon a sleeping figure. It was tall and thin, with burnt hair and charred skin. It lay sleeping against the roots of a willow tree in the forest near the princess's home. Above the creature sat a giant raven with singed feathers.

The child, ever curious and naïve to the dangers of the world around her, reached out and gently touched the creature's burned face, causing it to stir. Its eyes opened, revealing beautiful violet hues, which were quickly covered by a vile green glow. The creature sat still, watching the small child as she continued to gently touch its face, cloak, and hands, seemingly confused by it.

"You shouldn't be here, little princess," it whispered softly, allowing the girl to hold onto its hand as she stared at it.

"Hello!" She smiled back joyously in response, sitting herself down next to the creature. "Everyone was busy and I was bored. So I came out here to find a friend, and I found you!" she declared, still smiling brightly.

"Am I your friend now?" It asked softly, being careful in its movements and tone so as to not scare the sweet child.

"Yes!" The princess shouted excitedly, jumping a bit on her knees.

"That's lovely." The creature said sincerely, smiling with its eyes if it was able to.

"Do you know any stories? I love stories, I love to tell them and to listen to them!" Her blonde hair bounced and her violet eyes sparked with excitement as the creature nodded.

The sun moved throughout the sky, and soon the princess fell asleep next to the creature. It moved gently, lifting her up and placing her into her bedroom.

"Happy Birthday, little princess." He whispered softly, eyes smiling as a single tear went down his face. Today was the little princess's sixth birthday.

The creature's and the princess's days went on for years. The smiling child would wander and happen upon the creature, not knowing that it was he who cursed her all those years ago, and they would spend the day together. They would play adventure, the creature would tell her stories of faraway lands and magic, and She would help care for the creatures of the forest alongside him.

"What is this place?" She one day asked softly. They had wandered deeper into the forest, as they usually did. Entering a surreal realm full of magic and wonderful beings.

"Home. My home." He answered softly.

Over the years Aurora had learned that the creature did not like to speak. It hurt his voice to do so, and it hurt his face to show much expression, so he showed his emotions with his eyes. The princess had never questioned it before, but she had always wondered. Why did her friend look like that? Burned and charred all over? His pet raven singed as well? She would never ask, of course. It was a hard thing for him to talk about and he preferred to stay away from such conversations.

"Your home is lovely! Is this where your raven is from?" The now twelve-year-old princess asked as she hopped onto some stones peaking above the water of a flowing river.

"Yes. Diaval is from these lands, he was born here. I came to them many years ago and made my home here with him." the creature nodded slightly, moving to sit at the base of what must be this place's version of a willow tree.

"Wonderful! It is absolutely lovely!" Aurora declared again, laughing as she and Diaval began to play in the water with the other creatures.

Hours passed, the sun moved in the sky, and soon it was nearly night. The Creature stood and gathered up the princess and the raven so they could make their way back to her home. They talked softly as they walked, carrying the little princess and the raven hopping from branch to branch overhead.

"You'll never guess what the nanny told me today." Aurora sleepily murmured as her eyes began to drift shut.

"Hmm?"

"She said that soon I will meet with my mother and father. And that I'll get to live in a palace!" She sleepily declared joyfully "She told me that I'm a Princess and that on my sixteenth birthday they will take me back home, to my family. I don't know why I had to leave it, but she said it was because some horrible witch put a curse on me." With a final sigh, the child fell asleep in the creature's arms. Not noticing that he had stopped walking as she was speaking. He was frozen to the spot, darkness flooding the forest as the sun set. Time seemed frozen to him, and he only partially broke from his trance when he heard the shouting of guards begin to grow closer.

Still, in some bit of this trance, he was not able to react quickly enough. So soon guards rounded around trees and boulders and saw him holding the princess. These guards knew who he was, and what he had done to her on her birthday twelve years ago, so they managed to attack him. The creature snapped awake, placing the princess down and teleporting himself and the raven away in a blizzard of smoke.

When it cleared, the princess was sitting awake sleepily on the ground. The barest whisper could be heard by her over the sounds of the guards shouting.

"Happy birthday, little princess."

And so the night of her thirteenth birthday passed. The next day was full of commotion, servants packing, guards running around, the fairies flitting everywhere nervously.

"What's happening?" The newly thirteen-year-old princess asked softly, her violet eyes scanning her packed-up home with worry.

It was explained to her that, last night in her sleep, she had been taken by the horrible monster who had cursed her thirteen years ago. And that by some miracle he slipped up and left her behind when he teleported. The King and Queen had already heard of this and demanded that the princess be brought back home at once. The summer cottage was no longer safe, and they believed she would be safer in the castle, with her family.

The princess and all of her belongings, servants, guards, and nannies, were quickly brought to the castle in the center of the kingdom. Forcing Aurora away from her friend that she had made so many years ago, forcing her away from him without any answers to her many questions.

Once she had arrived at the castle she learned that there was no reason for her to have been excited to come here and meet her parents. The castle was awful, the people were awful, and they were awful.

The King and Queen didn't treat her like their daughter, they didn't even treat her like a child. They forced her to act in a 'princessly' way and to start reviewing suitors. She was starved in order to lose weight and gain a prettier figure, her hair was ruined as the maids of the castle and her mother used product after product on it to make it more 'in style'. Soon her violet eyes lost the shine they had once held, her smiling fading with it.

She would lay awake at night, on her beautiful bedspreads and silken sheets, and cry. She missed her old way of life. The freedom, the sun, the love she had experienced then. All of her personal servants went back to their old ways once they arrived here. Becoming cold, cruel, and gossipy. Even her nannies had betrayed her, leaving to go back to their homes now that they didn't need to care for her. She felt so alone, with no nannies, animals, or her friend to comfort her.

So she cried herself to sleep at night. Every night. For the next three years.

On the day before her sixteenth birthday Aurora sat before a standing mirror as maids and her mother fussed over her appearance. They covered bruises left by her father's disciplines, they covered her hollowed cheeks left by her mother's obsession with her figure, and they tried to cover the lost sparkle and false smile that left with her old life.

She was to throw a grand party tonight, on the night of her sixteenth birthday. It was the first time her birthday had ever been celebrated. It was also the night that the curse was supposed to take effect.

Her parents insisted that it was all planned out. She would meet a long list of suitors tonight and fall in love with one. They would be engaged, and when she fell into her cursed sleep, he would recuse her with a true love's kiss.

She was not enthusiastic about the prospects of this evening. But she had no choice but to go along with her parents' whims. To be that perfect princess they had been forcing her to be these past three years.

The celebration occurred, guests arriving in droves with gifts and greetings, suitors arriving in nearly as many numbers with even more gifts and the unfortunate flirting and evening walks to 'grow close'.

The night passed, and the celebration ended. Aurora had found no love, but her parents had. A wealthy, handsome young prince from the neighboring kingdom. They were strong and powerful and very very rich, was it mentioned that they were incredibly rich? Her parents decided then and there, that the two were in love. He might have been, but she was not. It didn't matter though, for they were engaged, and she was sent off to bed shortly after.

In her room, she found a spinning wheel, with a beautifully carved and sharp needle sitting on its peak.

The creature sat by, watching the princess as she left her sixteenth birthday party. Was she crying? He couldn't tell. He felt like crying, but he didn't know if he could anymore. Not after what happened. These last three years had been hell for him. Trying to find his way back here in order to rescue her from their clutches, but he had failed. It was already too late. She entered her room, where they had left a spinning wheel for her, and she fell into a trance. Pricking her finger she collapsed, asleep, forever.

He knew that the fairy had altered his curse, but he also knew that no one truly loved the princess, nor did she truly love anyone.

"Such a shame. I wish there was another way." He murmured to himself. Watching from a distance as servants came in and put the princess into bed, as planned by the King and Queen.

"It didn't have to happen this way. There were many other ways." Diaval whispered from his shoulder. The raven's head was twisted so that it could see what was occurring with its master.

"I know... But this was the least harmful way."

Diaval nodded, in a bird way, and the two fell into their usual silence. Watching as the moon sank and the sun rose. Watching as the prince, who was Aurora's fiance, entered the room and kissed her sweetly. Watching as it did nothing. Watching as she remained asleep. Watching as the sun set and the moon rose again.

He entered the princess's chambers, looking at her sleeping form wistfully.

"May you indeed be blessed with both beauty and song, may your life be forever sweet and long. May you live many fruitful years, full of grace. May you soon prick your finger on a spinning wheel's spindle and fall into a peaceful forever sleep. Never to be woken by this world's cruelty."

He whispered the curse that had left his lips sixteen years ago, staring at her as a single tear fell down his face once again.

*This story is inspired by the classic French Fairytale that many now know as 'Sleeping Beauty'. This is my own twist on the original fairytale and I'm working on the full version. This short version was cut off early as I didn't want to include any plot-spoiling parts.

- Moki-Mori*

CW: mentions of the topic of death

Writing about certain topics, especially when written at certain ages, can be easily misunderstood and turned into concern for one’s safety. In way it’s a good thing, I’m glad that there were people around me who read what I wrote and checked in on me. One the other had I always found it difficult to share or even write pieces that covered these topics because I was worried that I would make someone concerned. The ‘certain topics’ I’m referring to is anything todo with death. A characters death or even injury would have my freinds and family asking me if I was ok, if there was anything wrong. Bones, plague doctors, skeletons, death, all of that stuff. I enjoy writing and drawing it, not in a violent way. More of a ‘adorable skeleton puppy who lives with the grim reaper uwu’ way. (I cringed so hard writing that last thing). I liked to draw cute plague doctors in fancy hats, write about deities of death or grim reapers. The topic just fascinated me, plague doctors and grim reapers looked so cool! But when one writes about those kind of things, especially during their teenage years, it gets misinterpreted and causes concern. In a way, it’s a good thing. But it also caused me to be scared about what I was writing, that what I was interested in or enjoyed writing about was wrong.