The corridor seemed to go on forever. Allen felt as though he'd been walking for hours but the door at the end was no closer. He stopped and sat on the floor to rest. He looked back thinking that maybe he should return to the door he came in by. To his dismay it appeared to be as far away as the one at the other end.
He couldn't remember entering the corridor, and had no idea where he was or why.
Then he heard it again, the sound of footsteps. He looked both ways but saw no one. He called out, "Is anybody here? Please help me."
The only reply was the echo of his own voice.
He decided to go on. He stood up and suddenly realized he couldn't remember which way to go. Which was the door he had entered and which was the exit? Desperate, he picked a direction and began to run as fast as he could. He ran until his legs began to hurt and his lungs felt as though they were going to burst. He collapsed and lay for a while on the cold floor resting. and then he sat up, looked around and started to cry. He was still in the exact center of the corridor. He decided this had to be a dream; a nightmare to be precise. He decided that he would just sit here until he woke up.
Suddenly he heard laughter. It seemed to be all around him. He struggled to his feet. "Who are you?" he yelled. "Help me. Please, help me. I need to get out but I can't get to the door."
This time a voice answered his cry. "Allen, why should now be any different? In life you were useless, never finishing anything."
"In life? What do you mean, 'in life'?" Allen felt an icy lump in the pit of his stomach. "Where in hell am I?"
"That's right."
The echoing laughter got louder and louder. Allen sat on the floor, rocking back and forth with his hands over his ears and cried.
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