The Tower(Katherine Lashley) When I entered this building, I did not know that what would happen in here would stay here forever. My two friends and I decided to go here, upon my one friend’s request, Jonathon. Jonathon and I had been friends for as long as we could remember: only being about one month apart in age. His best friend, conveniently having the same name, Jon, was also with us. Upon entering the building we, Jonathon and I, had been in a stressed relationship, whether he had noticed or not, I could not tell. Needless to say, I felt that for the past few months my memory had been forgotten by him.

We entered on the ground floor, into a large, empty marbled room, where the host approached us. He asked no questions, only told us to follow him. The grand staircase could have fit at least twenty people standing shoulder to shoulder. We started up what seemed like a never ending staircase. After an innumerable amount of steps, we reached a floor with a number of tables, chairs, and silent people dining.

The host showed us to a table, which the Jons circled around, but told the host that they wanted something more private. So we went back to the stairs to continue going up the next floors. I forgot to mention before that as we mounted higher and higher, the stairs became narrower and narrower. We continued up the steps for quite a while and, at one point, the steps became so narrow that only two people could stand side by side. It then took an unexpected turn in that there was a big heavy door. The host opened the door and pointed to the top of the even narrower staircase.

We passed by the host one by one, being that only one person could go up the steps at a time. After each one of us had passed through the door to the uncommonly narrow passageway, the host shut the heavy wooden door framed with iron. We had been separated from the host and could no longer turn back. I did not know what my friends were thinking going up that long staircase. I would have felt content on one of the lower floors; where we were before would have been perfect. I heard my friend say, “This should be good,” as he opened the door at the very top. An old thin wooden door, it creaked when he opened it.

To my surprise, but maybe not so much to my friends’, there were three other men sitting around two small tables. Unlike the only other floor we visited, this room was strangely confining, very small. It was dark, with the low ceiling and black painted walls giving the room a feeling of deathly confinement. The chairs and tables were scattered about the room from the ways that other visitors had moved them.

We pulled two tables and three chairs together. What looked like a bar had three drinks sitting on the counter, so we took the drinks and sat down to talk. Jon, the friend I did not know so well, for we had only been acquainted a short time, made a toast.

“Jonathon, to your friendship.”

Jon looked at me with one eye and began to make his speech. “Jonathon, it appears that your life has come to a crossroads. Some people’s lives merge very well into one road, but I am afraid that yours cannot. You
must choose.”

That was when I turned to my dear friend, “You wouldn’t, you mustn’t. You would risk something new over something lifelong?” I did not know what to think, how something like this could happen. We were only supposed to get together as good friends and talk about things deemed foolish fifty years from that point in time.

The three men, young men, I should point out, got up to leave. Jon, who had always struck me as the antagonizing type, said, “What will it be Jonathon?”

Jonathon got up from the table and began to walk over to join the other men, whom apparently he knew.

“Johnny, no. Wait, you mustn’t!”

One of the men opened the door that we used to enter into the room, and walked out of the room. Next, another young man followed him, and then Jonathon. I had not even realized that I had jumped out of my seat and had flown halfway across the room. I had to stop him, for he did not know what he was doing.

But…someone got in my way, he stopped me, Jon stopped me. “He has made his decision, and it is final. He is not coming back, so you best let him go.”

I tried pushing him aside, but he was too strong for me, “No, I will not let him fall into a trap from you; you were supposed to be his friend.”

He kept walking backwards; I thought that he did that because I was threatening him. Then I realized that he was making his way to the door to join them, he was trying to deceive me again. I wrapped my leg around his, tripping him, and in doing so, positioned myself in front of the open passageway, blocking his way.

“Undo this. You brought this on, now make it stop!”

“Get out of my way!” He lunged forward, grabbed my shoulders so hard his nails dug into my skin. He threw me away from the door with immeasurable strength, upon which I landed on the floor several feet from him. My body hit one of the tables, and my head, on one of the chunkier chairs. He slammed the door shut, which a strong wind gushed from the movement. And there I sat, in that dark, small, gloomy room, all alone with not even my shadow to keep me company. Consumed in utter despair, I did not know what to do. Surely, when Jon closed the door, the loud click I heard was not the sound of the lock on the door. I tried to recall, when we entered the room, if I noticed a lock on the door.

Well, I could remember no such thing, so there was nothing else to do but to try the door knob. I stood up in what felt like slow motion—every bone and muscle in my body ached from being thrown to the floor. The top of my shirt felt wet, at which I realized that I was bleeding—for Jon’s savage nails had ripped part of my skin away. I walked slowly to the door, fearing something, but no knowing exactly what.

Maybe I was afraid that it would be locked, or maybe that it would be unlocked, or something dreadful behind the door. Maybe I feared that my precious friend would lay dead at the bottom of the staircase, I did not know, but had to find out.

After what had seemed hours, I put my hand on the cold door knob, and turned it. I turned it to the left; I turned it to the right, either way the doorknob would not move at all. I pulled it and pushed it, and still no movement came. I finally released my grip on the doorknob, which at that time vanished. I jumped back in astonishment, but decided that it was not exactly time to panic yet.

Another doorknob did not appear in its place. I ran my hand over the wood where it used to be, but it was gone. I felt a light breeze go by me, so I turned around to search for the opened window. The breeze kept coming, it grew steadily stronger, yet there was no window, no opening anywhere. Then I felt a drop, not in altitude, but in wetness. I felt a raindrop. Then another. I looked up at the ceiling, yet all I saw was the ceiling, and one of the few dimmed lights blinking in and out. The raindrops came faster and faster, mixed with the wind, I couldn’t distinguish which direction they were coming from. As the wind and rain grew stronger, I heard a low rumble, however, the floor beneath my feet, if indeed the floor, remained stationary. The rumble added itself to the dance of the wind and rain. What was this place? I had no idea, and the strange happenings surely puzzled me.

The lat of the dimmed lights blinked out and left me in utter darkness, however, not for long. A flash here, and a flash there; the lightning played with the wind and rain. It cut the wind in numerous ways, creating bodies of beasts and demons, who took a solid form by the rain. Everywhere I turned, there they were. I ran and bumped into the overturned tables and chairs, at least what was left of them.

I had already been panicking, but I could no longer control it—it had finally gotten the best of me! I did not realize it, but all along I had been letting out an ear piercing shriek. It was a good thing that I noticed it was coming from me, or I probably would have been scared by that also. Screaming, I ran—I knew not where, or how, but I did. I ran right into the wall, and out of it. And there I stood, for only God knows how long, being tormented by the elements….

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