In a different world

 Hell is other people - Jean Paul Sartre

We are all villains in someone's story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .And as famous as the line gets, it also makes one wonder if hell really is other people or is it just our perception of the world that makes it heaven or hell.

Racing through the dusty streets of a forlorn town, it was difficult to keep track of my own thoughts. At every step there was a crack in the heat trodden ground. The grass growing out of the ashen, abandoned walls of deserted houses had also died out with the prolonged absence of rain. Dust bunnies the size of beach balls rolled around in a wayward fashion. It was a ghost town with not a soul around.

Exploring around the vacant scene of this ghostly town I jaywalked with no care. In the distance there was a giant door with some undecipherable signs. Only one was recognizable of them, the star of David, but it was rather disturbing as it seemed to have been scrawled in blood, loose dried tissue hanging around each dripping line making it look rather eerie. To my insanely optimistic heart, this was a sign that at least some one was around this ghost town and was definitely not entirely insane, after all, even witch craft required some sense of cognizance and sequential thinking. 
Not questioning my intent, for I was neither hungry nor tired, I went ahead on my mission and tapped on the door loudly only to find it ajar. Stepping inside I realized it was a bustling world in itself, behind those  closed doors scribbled with weird symbols, and a star of David smeared on it in blood. All around me I could see a rush of people, living their lives, selling trinkets, making food, holding dance performances and magic shows. It was like a bustling bazaar, vibrant with vigor and movement and yet devoid of all colour. Everyone I could see, or rather not see, was clad in thick black cloaks which covered their faces and they all had a slow, staggered pace of walk, like a pre-set rhythm of mechanical lethargy. 

A loud thunder of clapping drew my attention towards a gathering at a distance where I could see a large crowd circling a small performer. I could not understand the gibberish at all, but the excitement erupting around me suggested a trickster was about to put up a show. Without losing any second, I squeezed through the swarm of black robe clad beings and found my self standing in the bleachers of this gathering, facing the trickster in question. A small person, with a bent back and probably a male given the sight of two whisker like strands of taught, black moustaches poking out of their hood. They had a squeaky, sly voice, full of mystery like any other magician on the street. After some silly antics they finally put out their main act, throwing around a few bones, they said some more gibberish similar to Abra Cadabra in the mundane shows we see on TV and lo and behold, the sticks moved in a similar rhythm like all the other black robe clad beings had been walking with. The crowd went silent for a minute and the only sound that came was of the the clinking bones and the sandy winds that were blowing around the ghost town outside of the heavy doors of this little dreadful oasis. The trickster / magician bowed down and the crowd cheered in a hoarse ruckus. I could only stare about in amazement, bewildered with what I just saw, my brain went into geek mode and I told myself it would have been a few pieces of magnets which he manipulated to make them move. As if in a spur the magician had read my thoughts, their little robe hood moved in a swirl, as though they were looking right at me. Feeling like my body was on cue, I clapped and pretended to have been awed by the performance I saw. The crowd dispersed as quickly as it had gathered, and the trickster, now walked towards another door and turned around extending their hand. The being trotted towards me in a purposeful stance. Their hood turned and a small hand, covered in white nitrile gloves emerged, with boney fingers, it gestured me to follow behind them. It seemed like they wanted me to follow their lead, and my feet walked as if under a spell and out of my control, without my thought or approval.

 I walked right behind the robe clad magician, and we together entered this new gateway. Inside, there were empty stools, barrels and brick walls like those in a barn or tavern. The flooring was oakwood, a musty smell lingered all around and slowly the room was brighter and darker, as if it were blinking on its own. There was no source of light I could trace, nor any sound of the changing switches. The magician stepped forward, towards the center and spoke, for the first time I could hear them and it was clear. 
"You thought my magic was just another trick, didn't you"

Of course, all magic is just a trick, I thought to myself and yet I replied, "No, not at all. This was brilliant"

"Not everything is a trick, let me show you another one and you would know" The magician spoke. 

I was puzzled as to how did they know what I thought, but assumed it was the number one reaction he got and was therefore used to of answering anyway. 

Another changing color, or bunny out of hat. What more could there be? I was thinking out loud, being a fan of magic tricks, I had watched re runs of magic tricks and their behind the scenes videos on TV a little too much as a child. Trying not to offend, I said "Yes please, I would love to"

"You think you have seen it all, let me amaze you a little my dear" 

The magician pulled a big, fat rabbit out of his hat and handed it over to what seemed like the chef or chief cook of this tavern. The chief emerged and vanished in what felt like a blink, their appearance ws more surprising than the emergence of the beastly rabbit. I was on alert mode now. Soon, I heard a loud cry of the animal, this time the chief cook emerged, with fresh blood stains over his robes, and a dish full of meat or animal flesh. To my horror now I realized, the monster rabbit had been slain, and it was now a throbbing piece of flesh which the magician put under a cloth and chanted some more gibberish spells. 

I was too scared by now, and wanted to stop but words failed me. The magician now turned and said, "scared already??. . . . . . . . . how will you enjoy the grand trick little girl.. . . . . Pay attention!" There was a thunder in this voice now. 

I gulped hard, could this trickster actually read minds? And what exactly were they going to do with the rabbit flesh? My answers came faster than my question could take shape in my head. Following the chants of the magician, the blood oozing flesh and bones of the animal floated in the air and moved like a living animal, obviously staggering and dragging owing to the missing pieces and oozing blood along with pieces of freshly clotting blood. Now the bloody scrawling on the door made some sense to me. It was a ghory sight that made me shriek. But my misery was prolonged, when the magician trotted closer and closer to me, wanted to reveal the final trick. The robe was a course material, and reeked of fresh blood, the smell filled my mouth with disgust as they and revealed the final trick.  Pulling down their hood, they unveiled their face to me. It was my face, it was me. but with distorted features and lips sewn shut with sutures. What sort of monstrosity was this I could not fathom, but with each step that this atrocity of a being took towards me, I shrank back in my spot, wanting and almost praying to disappear. I wanted to scream, scream as loud as i could, and yet I was too scared to even squeal. . . . . . . and everything started to go dark.   

Waking up in a cold sweat, i turned to my side, to find my phone, 3:30 am. I looked around, at my self and touched my face. I was okay, in my own house, inside my own bed. My heartbeat is racing and I can almost feel my heart beating inside my throat as my entire body shivers. I still can't recall what was more scarier, but I can definitely not go back to sleep now. Dogs howl outside my window, it is going to be w a long wait before sunrise.