Fledgling Scribbler

Everything turned bright white. He felt a strange sensation that was indescribable. It seemed as if endless possible worlds were colliding in his memories. He saw things as they could have been if he had made different choices, things that could have happened from others’ choices, things that were seemingly impossible. He reeled from the overload of information and just as he felt that he couldn’t take it anymore, it stopped. He took deep gasping breaths and felt the alien memories fading away, though not completely gone. He turned toward the door and found that he was not alone. The woman from the front desk, Arlene Conroy, was standing there, looking around the room in wonder.

“Ms. Conroy, what-” Eddie stopped when he saw her eyes open wide in astonishment.

“How do you know my name?” Arlene said, fear apparent in her voice. “Why are you in here? This place looks just like one of my motel rooms.”

Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion. “You checked this room out to me not half an hour ago.”

Arlene opened her mouth in shock. Then she looked at the key in her hand. “I found this key behind the front desk, but I’ve never had a Room 10. I was just trying the broom closet to see if it was maybe mislabeled.” She looked around. “This… definitely does not look like the broom closet.”

Er… so ignore that last post, since I hadn’t really put much thought into what I was going to write.

————-

Eddie arrived at the Sunshine Motel. It seemed a little run-down, but that was to be expected of a motel of moderate means in the middle of nowhere. He arrived at the front desk to see a woman who flashed her brightest smile at him. Eddie figured that he must be a welcome sight for a motel that hardly saw any visitors.

“Hi there! Welcome to the Sunshine Motel. My name is Arlene Conroy. How can I help you?”

“Hi. I’d like a room please,” Eddie said. He looked around and saw that this place had no staff that he could see.

“How does room 10 sound?” Arlene cheerily said after filling out a little paperwork and retrieving a key from the wall behind her.

“Sounds fine,” Eddie said briefly. He didn’t feel in the mood for conversation, so he went straight to the room.

He went inside the room and found the accommodations sufficient. Compared to some of the dumps he had been to before, this was quite a cozy place. There was a television, a nightstand, and a somewhat comfortable looking bed. He took his wedding picture out of his jacket pocket. He hated having to leave his wife all the time, but he always carried the picture with him. His absences were hard on his marriage, which was just approaching its second anniversary. But, that was part of the job. He hadn’t thought much about love and building a family when he decided to be an investigative journalist. He was working freelance when he met Mabel while doing a story. After some time dating, he realized he couldn’t bear a future without her, so they married after only a few months of dating. Now, however, he was wondering whether this was hard on her, with him being gone so often, chasing some story to support them.

…

He was meeting a contact at the local diner. He put on his tie and took his glasses. Not that he needed them. He just found that people got uncomfortable talking to him after a while because his glass eye didn’t really move naturally, and that freaked people out. He had lost his right eye in a childhood accident. The glasses sometimes helped distract them somehow, got people to be more willing to speak to him. As he was about to leave however, the Event happened.

Whoops. Guess I missed a few days. Here’s some more:

“Hey, Eddie! Sick of Willowbrook already?” someone said behind him.

Joe turned around to see Arlene Conroy. Joe was stunned to see how young and vital she looked. The last time he had seen her, she had died after 40 years of torment. She looked as she did before the Objects had become her obsession and ruined her life.

“Yeah, Mabel’s driving me up the wall,” Joe heard himself say. “No, really, I just have some business to do here.”

Arlene chuckled. “Well, just give us a holler if you need anything.”

——–

Eh… I’m feeling kind of unmotivated and tired tonight, and I’m not sure where this is going yet. More later when I have a better idea.

So, due to my procrastination last week, I’ve missed a couple of days. So here’s a super long post to make up for that.

Joe dropped to his knees and stared at door 9 in desolation. Jennifer put her hand on his shoulder to try to console him, but he gave no sign that he even knew the hand was there. After all the things he had done, he still couldn’t get his daughter back, and he was out of ideas.

“Joe, we shouldn’t stay here,” Jennifer said. “We have to find some other way to get into the room.”

Joe laughed tearfully. “How are we going to do that? The Occupant closed the rift in reality and took the Conroy objects with him. That includes the key. We can’t get in without the key.” He finally made eye contact with Jennifer. He felt her grip his shoulder.

“Joe, since I’ve met you, you were determined to get your daughter back. You took whatever course of action you could think of to get her back, no matter how desperate the situation was. I admired that about you. Are you telling me that you’re really going to give up now?”

Joe screamed, unexpectedly, venting his frustration and his pain. Jennifer, startled, let go of him.

“What do you expect me to do, Jennifer? Huh? The only way to get into that room is gone now. No one can get into that room now.”

Jennifer just stood and looked at Joe for a minute. Then she got on her knees and hugged him tightly, unable to find anything to say. Some time passed, though for how long, neither of them could say. Then there was a quiet creaking that broke the silence, causing Joe to look around. To his amazement, he saw that door 8 was open and inside it was unmistakably the motel room, the key on the floor. He got up and walked dazedly toward the door and felt Jennifer hold his hand. He looked at her and she looked back at him, worried. He purposefully strode into the room and saw the Occupant next to the window, his white hospital clothes gone and replaced by the clothes he had been wearing in the polaroid. He was looking around the room, uncertain. The patch over his eye was now gone, replaced by the glass eye that Kreutzfeld had been wearing before he disappeared into the room.

“Eddie? Eddie McCleister?” The Occupant turned around toward the source of the voice. “Do you remember who I am?” Joe asked, hoping that the reset of the room did also erase the Occupant’s memories.

“Yeah… you’re…” the Occupant trailed off, as if struggling to remember. “Joe Miller… you lost your daughter.”

“Yes,” Joe said, sighing with relief.

“I’m sorry… this room… when it’s not connected to your world, time doesn’t have any meaning in here.”

“Did… did you open the door again?” Joe asked.

The Occupant looked at Joe, his glass eye glittering unnaturally under the sunlight coming in from the window. “No, I didn’t. The door… it doesn’t stay closed if all the Objects haven’t been returned. The room wanted the door open again, the key accessible to this world until all the Objects have been collected and returned to this room.”

“You wanted me to bring you here. Can you bring my daughter back?” Joe pleaded.

“Yes,” the Occupant said, simply. “Take the key and close the door behind you.”

Joe looked questioningly at the man and then at Jennifer. She was as much at a loss as he was.

“Do you want your daughter back? Do it now,” the Occupant commanded.

Well, Joe thought, he didn’t have much to lose if he did this. He picked up the key, took Jennifer’s hand and closed the door behind them when they were both out. Waiting about half a minute, Joe opened the door again and his daughter came out tumbling into his arms. Crying out in elation, he hugged Anna tightly.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much, kiddo,” Joe choked out. He felt like he would never let her go.

“I missed you too, daddy,” Anna said, muffled by the embrace. “Was I gone for long?” She looked around at the Occupant and Jennifer. “Daddy?” she whispered.

“Yeah, honey,” Joe said, still hugging her as if he wasn’t sure she was real.

“Who are those people?” she whispered into his ear. Joe laughed and Jennifer smiled. He finally let go of her and introduced his daughter to Jennifer, since they were probably going to be seeing a lot of each other, and to Eddie McCleister. Joe felt that his daughter should know her savior by name, rather than by the title that he was known by among the few who knew of his existence.

Joe shook Eddie’s hand. “Thank you so much, I really don’t know how to repay you.”

Eddie nodded in acknowledgment, though he still looked as sad as he did back in the hospital. “I’m glad to know that one less person’s life hasn’t been ruined by this room,” Eddie said.

“How did you find her? Where was she?” Joe asked, wondering if he would ever understand the room.

“There’s… there’s more than one room,” Eddie said.

“More than one room? What do you mean?” Joe asked.

“There’s more than one room,” Eddie repeated impatiently.

“I don’t understand,” Joe said.

Eddie’s hand shot out, grasping Joe by the forehead. Shocked by the unexpected gesture, Joe tried to pull away, but almost instantaneously, his surroundings turned blindingly white and he found himself alone in the motel room. Panicked, Joe tried to move toward the door, but found that he had no control of his movements. Terrified now, he found himself walking toward the door and opening it. The door opened and he found himself looking out of the motel as it had been when Room 10 still existed.

“Relax,” a voice in his head said. Joe recognized it as Eddie’s voice. “You’re seeing what it was like before the Event, from my eyes.”

———-

TBC, tomorrow (hopefully)

“Please,” Joe begged. “You have to help me. My daughter went into that room. Tell me there’s something that can be done.” Joe’s eyes teared up in frustration and hopelessness.

The Occupant peered at Joe, as if considering his plight. After only a moment’s hesitation, he simply said, “Take me to the motel room.”

…

After acquiring all the Objects from the Conroy Experiment and leaving Joe for dead, there was only one place Karl Kreutzfeld could be. If he could find Kreutzfeld, he would find the key. The problem was that Joe had to hurry… after all this delay, Kreutzfeld no doubt had a head start in recreating the experiment. Joe and the Occupant would have to get there quickly to stop the madman.

…

Joe had been driving straight to Gallup, trying very hard to resist the temptation to break the speed limit. It wouldn’t do if he were caught speeding, especially if the local enforcement agency knew he was wanted. He could just about see the Sunshine Motel when a bright flash of light caught his eye, illuminating the shapes of three figures. One was heading into one of the motel doors, door 9. Karl. He had gotten there too slowly.

“No! God dammit,” Joe cursed, flooring it now. As he was approaching the derelict building, he felt an unexplainable pulsing and a strange sensation, rendering him almost unable to drive. Looking sideways at the Occupant, the man seemed strangely unaffected, almost separate from reality. Joe stamped on the brakes just in time as he pulled up to the motel and saw that one of the figures on the ground was Jennifer. The third figure was now just a pile of ashes. From the suit, Joe deduced that this was what was left of Anthony, Kreutzfeld’s bodyguard. As Joe stumbled over to Jennifer, both of them crumpled in pain as Kreutzfeld passed the threshold of the motel door, reaching for a small figure that Joe could just barely make out. In an instant, it seemed as if Kreutzfeld disappeared and the pulsating increased exponentially, as well as the pain. The Occupant, who had been sitting in the car, almost as if in a daze, suddenly seemed to come to his senses. He purposefully strode out of the car and toward the event horizon, the calm in the middle of a chaotic storm. Joe realized too late what was happening and tried to follow the man, but the door shut immediately behind him. Suddenly, everything came back into focus and the pain was gone. The sudden return of reality shocked Joe, and realization dawned slowly that the man who could have saved his daughter was gone, along with the key.

—–

TBC, tomorrow.

So, by request, I will attempt a Lost Room fanfic, where I rewrite the conclusion to be less open-ended. So, here are the last twenty minutes or so:

Joe walked into the white padded room. The Occupant had his back to him. Here was the man who was also an Object. A living being. Unable to figure out what to say, Joe awkwardly began to introduce himself.

“My name is Joe Miller.”

The Occupant gave a start but otherwise betrayed no sign of acknowledging him.

“I just want to ask you-”

Before Joe could finish, the man attacked him, suddenly and unexpectedly. Fortunately, Joe still had his wits about him and was able to throw him against a wall. He pointed his firearm at the Occupant. The man looked around wildly, and seemed afraid of Joe. As Joe was gathering his wits, he noticed the man had a patch over his right eye.

“Easy! Easy. I just want to talk to you. I’m putting my gun down okay?”

Joe slowly and cautiously put down his gun on a windowsill. He grabbed a chair and slowly sat down. Before he could finish the action though, the Occupant shoved Joe out of the way and grabbed the gun. At first, he pointed it at Joe, as if uncertain what to do, and then turned it on himself. Before Joe could stop him, the man had put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

In shock, Joe fully expected to see the man fall down with half his head blown off. Instead, the Occupant merely coughed and spit out the spent bullet.

“Damn,” said the man. Somewhat sheepishly, the man put down Joe’s and faced away from Joe again.

Joe took out the wedding photo. “I met your wife. She misses you, even though she doesn’t remember you,” Joe said, hesitantly. The man looked at the photo, suddenly looking more sad than he had when Joe had walked in.

“I felt it coming. I thought that you were her. That’s why I let you through,” the man explained, his voice breaking slightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Joe said, sincerely. “Look, I just need to know what happened that day in 1961. Did you cause it? Did you create the objects?”

The Occupant glared at Joe. He turned away, and sat looking out the window. After a while, Joe began to think that maybe the man had forgotten about him, so he started walking up to the man.

“I used to be called Eddie McCleister. I was staying in that room when the Event occurred. It was like an infinite amount of universes collided in that one spot. You have no idea what that feels like. I felt so many different experiences, so many different feelings, impossible memories…” Eddie’s voice trailed off, looking out the window as if he were reliving the moment. “When it was over, everything changed. I lost everything… my wife, my family… I had no reason to keep on living. The room and everything in it, including me, suddenly existed outside of the space-time continuum.”

———–

All right, this is getting kind of long, and I know there’s not a whole lot of original material in here yet. But, I’m kind of tired, so I’m just going to continue this tomorrow.

All right, since I shouldn’t be using scifi/fantasy elements as a crutch, I’ve decided to develop Thomas’s back story without teleportation. Also, I haven’t developed many villain characters, so here you go:
1. Distrustful: Growing up in an abusive household, Thomas has cultivated a distrust of mankind and functions best as a loner.
2. Power-hungry: Since killing his parents when he was younger, he craves the feeling of power that causing misery, or even committing murder, gives him.
3. Needy: Having grown up without much friends or attention from others, anyone who can get his guard down enough for him to trust them, even in a small measure, has a measure of power over him. As long as this person does not slight Thomas in any way, or worse, betray him, this person will have gained a fierce loyalty from Thomas. Thomas will constantly crave the attention of this person.
4. Twisted conscience: Despite his need for a feeling of power, he cannot cause harm to a victim if he cannot rationalize to himself that what he is doing is not wrong.