The Wrong Room – Daisy Hat
November 18th, 2008 | Published in Volume I
I pushed the door open, stumbling upon an open tin of cat food on the mat. A musty smell caught me hard in the back of my throat, forcing me to clamp my eyes shut for a moment. I could hear voices from above: giggles, shouts, obscenities.
“Hello,” I cooed, not expecting an answer. A steep set of wooden stairs shone out in front of me, bewitching and terrible, and with a heavy stomach I knew there was no way but up. Swallowing I ascended, one foot, then another, yes then another. The paint on the walls seemed to crack as I moved past; giving the house the impression of a disintegrating speckled sweetie, all dust and sugar.
My head was floating numbly above the banister in the gloom, before finding myself horrifically eye-to-eye with a man roaring down the stairs, yelling to himself as he tried to balance a silver serving tray on his index finger. My stomach soared. The stairs shook violently and I grabbed at nothing as my feet slipped into grimy oblivion.
“Excuse me,” I boomed, trying to draw attention to myself. “Hello?”
He was still screaming as he curtly bent down to the mat and tipped the contents of the cat food onto the shiny dish. He then blew on it, slammed the top back on before coursing back up the stairs, panting horrendously.
I swore, then smiled, then swore again.
“Woddle!” rumbled above, nearer this time and swiftly I found myself on the landing, bathed in an ethereal green light that seemed to seep into every crack of immediate darkness. It was a window. Underneath a lemony girl stood staring at her left foot through a magnifying glass. Perceiving I would get little sense here, I grinned sappily and took a sharp left.
I was in a stretched, chalky hall with four doors leading off and another set of stairs at the end, thin and windy, the top not visible through the purple-darkness. Candles glowed pointlessly at me in strange places. I could smell roast chicken. A hot panic spread through me in waves as I realised what I had to do.
I licked my dry lips and raised my hand to the first door. I waited, silence pounding around my head like the ocean. No answer. I opened it, popping a bulging eyeball around the side, my hat askew. Empty, but for a tacky leather chair sitting at a low desk upon which was a note that read: ‘WRONG ROOM.’