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Lycanruckus — [PTB-OCT R1] Chapter 6 | Probably Not Dead...?
Published: 2019-05-13 15:53:31 +0000 UTC; Views: 212; Favourites: 3; Downloads: 0
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It was hard to discern that I had actually woken up.
Wherever I was, it was completely dark.
You’re probably thinking, ‘well, Avery, we’ve all been in the dark before, that’s not very exciting, cut to the chase’.
That’s the thing.
This was DARK.
I could see nothing.
I could hear nothing (which isn’t so much to do with the light level, but just play along).
I was starting to think I could feel nothing.
As much as I detested staying in the Void, this place was already so much worse.
I wondered if this was a mistake. If, somehow, something between the Narrator and that door went catastrophically wrong, if this wasn’t meant to happen, if one of those demons I’d heard about in the Void had pulled some nasty trickery and brought me here.
But of course not.
The Narrator may have been a questionable individual, but he would not allow a mistake like this to happen. He was powerful. He was everywhere. He was…
Well. Whatever he was, and wherever I was, this had to be on purpose.
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Avery sat up.
The floor they were on was padded, unlike that of the Void – while the change may have been reassuring to some, this feature fell securely on the incredibly worrying side of things for them.
Wherever they were, it smelled stale.
Like the home of a dead man.
They raised both pale hands before their face, and twisted them through 180 degrees. Neither was visible.
“Uh… H-hello…?” they asked the nothing.
The nothing did not respond.
The nothing did not have time for them.
…
They began to reach out around themself. Starting with the ground to their left and moving their hands in an arc, they searched meticulously for something, anything. Tempting as it was to stand up and walk about to check whether this place had any immediate boundaries, they could end up losing their place.
This started to feel ineffective. So they lay on their back and pencil-rolled three feet to their right.
Nothing.
Avery stopped, and rolled six feet to the left.
There was something digging into their hip – rapidly, they scrambled to sit up, and got a grip on the object. It was cylindrical, wider at one end, and had an odd lump on its side.
A button!
Avery, with no better ideas for what to do, pushed it with their thumb – a beam of light flashed from the big end of the device, illuminating a slice of the area around them.
They had found a flashlight.
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After a brief, excited “yes!” Avery began to pay some attention to the non-nothing they were sitting in.
At first, the torchlight revealed only a circle of dark, concrete wall – but, by angling the beam a little differently, they discovered that most of the room was lined with stained, rotting white cushioning. It was torn raggedly in a few places.
It looked like someone had a tantrum in there. Or several.
Not only that, but the walls were smothered, floor to ceiling, in crazed black scribbling. Most of it was hard to make out, but they caught a few decipherable mantras as they frantically whirled the light around them.
“Only one who knows.”
“Where is he where is he where is he where—“
“Thank me if they understood.”
“Miss him miss him, but he’s gone gone gone gone gone--”
“NEVER IN THE WRONG.”
Their breathing was heavy. “Virgil? Bradley? Mr Narrator? ANYONE?! SOMEBODY, HELP!!”
This room must have been the Killer’s. There was no other answer.
They were going to die.
…
They turned around and lit up what was written in enormous, dark red lettering on the wall behind them.
Of course it was.
“I AM AVERY LOWELL.”
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