The Stairs Chapter 1

The Stairs                              
Written by Scott Wilcox          3/04/09

  The shrill jangle of the alarm, broke the silence of the early morning, and brought twenty-five year old Craig to a rude awakening.  With a sigh, he turned over to silence what he thought of as a sleep deprivation device.  Despite having gone to bed unusually early, he still felt as though he had just lain down.  Unlike most nights, he had not slept well.  His night had seemed to be one long ordeal, filled with relentless tossing and turning which brought him into dreams that he now could not remember.  Yet he wondered if maybe he didn't remember because maybe he wouldn't want to recall said dreams. 

  Looking up at the ceiling, still cloaked in semi-darkness, he realized he really didn’t have time to consider his plans for the day.  Despite his dreams, this morning was no different than any other of his over 6,625 days.  So, with a renewed sense of energy, he mentally shook himself, as he readied himself for work.  Being sure to remember everything he would need to do or bring with him.   

    Craig pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge, trying to ignore the nagging part of his mind that wondered why he was still so tired.  He grabbed the ham and cheese, each from their appropriate spots, and set them on the counter to prep for breakfast.  Pushing the musings aside, he focused on the day ahead of him and the list of to-do's he knew would be waiting when he arrived at the grocery store he managed.  An even quicker phone call from his best friend, reminding him not to forget to take a change of clothing, for a dinner engagement they were both to attend later that evening.  He felt no trepidation, as he headed for the stairs that led down to his apartment door.  Thoughts still buzzing in his head about his day and what he wantde to accomplish as well as things he wants to do a later times. 

  He lived relatively comfortably, in what was once a Victorian brownstone that had been converted into apartments many years before.  The door to his apartment was actually at the bottom of a flight of stairs, which he thought was unusual.  It was, in itself, a private entrance, with its own landing, hallway and private stairs.  He loved the feeling of privacy this gave him.  Despite the fact that, other apartments filled with the lives of other tenants surrounded him on all sides.  Downstairs, to the left of his apartment door, was a shared area that had been, at one time, a great double living-room.  Now it was a common room, popular with the residents as a gathering place.  It was unusual, but seemed to fit the mood and style of the apartment building.  He had, himself, spent many nights there playing cards and board games or just talking.  A common bond seemed to be beginning amongst the residence.  Over time, it had become his custom to look in as he passed by, speaking to anyone that might be there.  Upon opening the door of his apartment, he looked to his left and the clothing he carried, along with his jaw, hit the floor.  Standing there in stunned silence, as he stared out and saw what seemed to be an alley, which was totally wrong.  Shock was hardly strong enough word to describe what he was feeling at this very moment. 

  No longer the familiar room he expected, the alley ran from left to right.  At its left end, the one closest to him, dumpsters and cans overflowed with rotting matter and other debris.  Shock pinged through him as a rat scurried out into the open then dived back, deeper into the shadow of a large dumpster.  The stench of garbage assailed his senses, and as he noticed that detail, others began to make themselves known.  The ground, no longer a carpet, was wet asphalt; cracked and dirty, and wet from a recent rain.  Sounds of traffic and other noises came to him.  As he turned to his right he saw, at the far end, a street with cars and taxies and pedestrians.

  With every intention of proving to his self that he was still asleep in bed and obviously dreaming, he pinched his arm.  He flinched in surprise at the unexpected, and unwanted pain.  In shock, he watched as his skin reddened where he had pinched it, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.  Off balance, he stumbled over the clothing he had dropped.  His foot came down onto broken glass, grinding it into the hard asphalt of the alley.  The glass, crunching under his boot sole and the feel of the hard asphalt under his foot cleared his mind like the pinch did not.  He realized, reluctantly, that no, he was not dreaming.  What he was seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling was all very real. 

  All of this happened within seconds, but it felt like hours to Craig.  Panicked and overwhelmed, he whirled around to face what should have been his apartment door and the stairs.  However now, in fact, only a blank brick wall, stained with rain and years of alley refuse. Cold numbness overcame him, as he stood there facing the wall.  His hands, reaching blindly, felt only wet and cold stone.  Fingers trailing along mortar, trying to find any evidence of his door, any door, that might take him home.  At last though, realization set in that there was nothing, and he slumped to the ground.  Feeling the cold chill of water, seeping through his jeans, as he leaned back against the wall he had come through.

  After what seemed a lifetime, Craig realized he had to remain mentally alert, in order to be able to return from this nightmare.  He knew he was not dreaming, and waiting to wake up was not the answer.  He could not sit there until night fall hoping for help; he didn’t even know where he was.  With a mental shrug, he made that his first priority; he had to find out where he was.  Standing, he brushed him self off, and began walking.  On his way towards the street that had first appeared so mirage-like at the end of the alley, but now offered the only real hope of reality.
 
  Reaching the street, Craig stopped and looked around and up at the buildings surrounding him.  He could have been in anywhere USA as far as he could tell, and the few people who were passing by only glanced his way before hurrying on and Craig was not inclined to rush up to any of them asking questions.  He knew from watching countless movies that they would only assume he was mentally unstable if he were to ask any of them what city he was in, and he did not need that added to his already growing list of problems.  No, instead he would try to find a phonebook or newspaper and get the information he needed from that.  He wasn't sure if this was actually his best bet but he would give a try and go from there. 

  Taking a breath he stepped out onto the sidewalk, and began hurrying towards the corner, hoping to find a phone booth, or newsstand.  Reaching the corner he saw, standing in the shadows of another alley, a group of young scruffy looking men, heavily tattooed and wearing jackets with obvious gang markings.  Craig realized with a sinking heart that they were part of a gang and that he was alone with them.  Upon seeing Craig they began shouting insulting comments and gesturing obscenely.  Unsure of what he had done to provoke them, and totally out of his element, Craig turned on his heels to go back the way he had come, uncomfortably aware that the entire group of young men had left the alley and had started to follow.  Looking back over his shoulder he saw that a few of them had acquired pipes from somewhere along the way while others held broken bottles and where gesturing towards him, waving them threateningly.  He picked up his pace, and was dismayed when they did the same, closing the distance between themselves and himself.  This was not his most ideal place to be at the moment and he wanted out.   

  Craig suddenly realized that he was most likely about to be killed, or worse and throwing caution to the wind broke out into a full fledged run.  Not aware he was still able to move as quickly as he was, but when your life depends upon it, anything is possibole.  The sweat pouring down his face as his legs accepted the jarring of the life and death running.  No one was on the street now except for himself and the gang and the windows of the buildings all around only stared down blankly, offering no help as he ran, looking for escape.

  Ducking into seemingly yet another alley, Craig slipped stealthily behind a dumpster, squeezing himself into the tight space between it and the wall, hoping they hadn’t seen him and would move on.  As they neared his hiding spot they slowed down and Craig could hear them cursing, wondering where he had gone, but knowing he had to be close by.  He realized it was probably only a matter of time before they stumbled upon him but he waited, trying not to breathe heavily and alert them to his whereabouts.

  The tension could be cut with a knife, and the sweat which still drenched his face and he even thought they could hear him sweating.  Chastising himself silently, Craig shook himself mentally, trying to clear his mind of his fear.  He needed a clear head to help him decide what his best course of actions would be.  As he listened he realized they were slowly moving further down the alley, but it did little to ease his apprehension and he squeezed himself further into the space, trying to form as small a target as possible and waited, praying.  After what seemed to be hours, he realized he had not heard them for a period of time.  How long it had been he was not sure especially since he may have dozed off momentarily, but hesitantly, expecting to see them all gathered silently around the dumpster and waiting, Craig sidled out, and felt relief wash over him when he found himself alone.

  He realized with a start that he was, once again, in the alley he had started in, and he turned around, looking at the featureless brick of the walls, and the dumpster and garbage cans, feeling hopelessness flood through him.  Kind of disoriented he wasn't sure of how exactly he would find his way back home.  With a cry, he slumped against the wall, and fell backwards through the door, landing heavily on the bottom tread of the stairs. His door swung shut with a click and with shock he realized he was back, and thought the grungy landing had never looked as good before as it did now. 

  Then Craig pauses in mid track, as he begins to wonder, what kind of a mess had he been trapped in.  Of course he wondered the bigger question, how to get out of it.  Then he starts yelling, “Hello is there anybody out there?  Can anybody hear me?  Its Craig and I could use a hand.”  Knowing from past experiences that the ruckus, and noise would bring some concern, but no response in over ten minutes, was cause for pause.

  Upon reflection, he decided against going the way he had just come, at least not yet.  Therefore he went back up his stairs; without even bothering with his clothes, still lying on the floor.  Could it be that somehow he was still sleeping, and he just thought he was awake?  He continued to hope beyond all hopes that he found himself still sawing logs.  As he reached the top of the stairs, he was shaken to his quick, and yet pleased to find himself in a beautiful tropical beach.  Without much thought he said, “Now this is more like it, I can handle this; I hope I am not dreaming after all.”  A sudden relief overwhelmed his senses as he took a deep breath and felt as though he were at home and relaxed. 

    Settling down on a nearby log, to enjoy his surroundings and just drift off into a dream land, inside this dream, enjoying the smells and the ocean breeze, beauty as far as the eye could see.  His thoughts were adrift in all the magnificance and the possibility of him finding a local girl and settling down in this lovely place.  He wondered what would happen though to his life in his other reality, what of his family and friends.  Weighing all the pros and cons of family and friends and a good job against this seemingly paradise.  Craig understood he didn't know anything about this incredible habitat or its people and yet he knew his family and friends.  He knew the risks he would be giving up for the unknown.  At that moment, he saw a couple angry looking natives with spears, running toward him grumbling some foreign language.  Regardless of what they were saying, Craig knew he wasn’t about to stick around for tea and crumpets.  It didn't take him long to figure that reasoning with them was pointless and he had to leave and quickly.  Getting to his feet he noticed a little crimp in his leg but had to work around it as he shook it off. 

  Again he raced toward his protective stairs tripping and falling on his face and quickly regaining his equillibrium, and stumbled quickly down into the landing and into safety.  Sitting on the stairwell briefly catching his breathe, hoping that the natives wouldn’t follow him into this space.  “I don’t really understand what I could have done, to get into such a precarious situation.”  Craig understanding, that this safe haven was simply a temporary sanctuary from the troubles of the world.  Eventually he realized that he would have to venture out again and find other places, but for now he had to regain his strength and clarity.  While gaining his brawn he had much to think about and consider.  Mostly was how he got himself into such a harrowing situation and naturally his escape.