Sunday, August 9, 2009

Tales of the Exit Monsters

I stood in the large open area where a few of the tangled hallways collided. It seemed as though the Langoliers had just visited the place. Everything looked the same; untouched, neatly ordered, sanitized, and familiar. An abundance of identical chairs, lined up and stood guard at the wall. Eager to be read, the usual plethora of magazines rested atop randomly scattered side tables. Overly large prints, offering the customary landscapes, full of horses, fox hounds and fences hung on the windowless walls. Yes, everything looked right; but the air seemed heavy, hard to breathe, the quietness of the place had become a terrifying noise roaring with pandemonium. Where were the people?

Right before I started crying, I usually started to shake violently. Already underway with an excellent head start, pressed firmly up against my internal panic button was the beginning of a multitude of freakish behaviors; all due to my paranoia of empty, ghost-filled buildings. The haunting, uncontrollable vibrations of my limbs were beginning to look like I was trying to channel Elvis at the end of a concert. From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, fear-scented sweat was popping out from my pores like a spicket. Within moments, I was soaked, completely drenched and looking as if I needed a good hormone replacement therapy.

Where were all those people who sat upon the garrison of chairs? The sad ones who groaned and moaned, wishing someone would pay homage to their pitiful whimpering. I should have had more mercy for them, for even now they have deserted me. No friendly faces, no friendly smiles, no happy laughter. Rolling like thick bloated fog, the petrifying silence, eerie and cold drifted in and around the enormous expanse of empty corridors.

Bright red ‘EXIT’ signs antagonistically glared at me; a few of the braver ones blinked on and off as if to say, “I’m the one you want, I’m the one that leads the way out!”

Oh, how was I to decide which exit to run through; none were properly signed as to their direction.

The gamble was on. It was time to square-up or cry like a baby.

Being chased by a serial killer while creeping through a haunted mirror maze, seemed more appealing than the hollow, spider-legged complex with it’s devil-eyed exit signs, which were beginning to wink and whistle at me. Odd on and off sounds of schtiz, schtiz, schtiz, called my name; the blood-soaked bloodshot exit-eyes were enticing me to come their way!

I could be brave. However, most of the time that happened in between the tears and the Elvis act. Alone and afraid, I stood frozen with indecision. Would I crumble in a heap of tears and pee a little bit on the floor; or grumble up growling ready for the rumble with this over-inflated exaggeration of ghoulish, spooky monsters that preceded and accompanied my psychotic breaks with reality.

Suddenly, there she was, this angel from on high. Her halo was brightly luminescent. The slightly darkened and scary hallways bulging with a mosaic display of red exit signs were no longer a threat to my sanity. With a smile full of kindness, and eyes full of twinkles, she offered to lead me out. Assuring me with promises that she would make notes in my patient file to only allow morning appointments. I believed her. I was comforted. I knew I would never again be caught as the last patient of the day. Never in my life, would I be lost or frightened again at the…

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