[This station is the station of hatred, the station of hatred.]
[Doors will open on the right side...]
These words echo in my ears, a faint reverberation of a reality whose essence I no longer grasp. Am I in a subway? Or is this just another illusion from the circus I live in? A suffocating silence envelops me, a silence heavier than any I have known, like the silence of graves that still breathe. I close my eyes, trying to banish these sounds, these twisted images that invade my mind without permission. But they grow clearer, more insistent, as if pulling me into the depths of a bottomless abyss.
I am part of this silence, part of this terror that creeps into every corner of my consciousness. I remember, or so I think, that I used to fear horror stories. I avoided them, pressing the "not interested" button whenever a scary thumbnail appeared on my screen. So, is it fitting for someone like me, someone who shivers at the mere thought of fear, to be a hero in a horror story?
'It's better to kill me...' I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible in this void. 'At least that would be merciful.'
I didn't even have the energy to understand what was happening. I covered my face with both hands, trying to deny this world, to deny this circus, to deny this madness that was slowly devouring me. I wanted to disappear, to dissolve into nothingness, to return to that comfortable void that preceded my awakening in this cursed place.
And at that moment.
A flash.
[First Place: The Real Goods Box for Dark Exploration Records]
"...?!"
I raised my head, my eyes staring into the void. Something was flying across my field of vision, something like a notebook, or perhaps a piece of paper. Was it real? Or was it just another hallucination? I closed and opened my eyes several times, but it remained there, fluttering before me, as if it were an independent entity. A piece of paper flying, looking as if it had been torn from an old book, its edges frayed, its letters faded. I tried to catch it, but it eluded me, moving away whenever I approached, as if mocking my desperate attempts.
"What the hell is this?" I muttered, my voice hoarse with fear and confusion. "Is this part of the show?"
I wasn't sure if anyone heard me, for the clowns and dolls were silent, their glassy eyes staring into space, or perhaps at me. I felt a chill creep into my bones, a coldness not from the air, but from the realization that I was completely alone in this madness.
The paper suddenly stopped, floating in the air directly in front of me. It bore a title written in a strange script, a script that seemed to belong to another world: "The Survivor's Guide in the Shattered Consciousness Circus."
A guide? A survivor? Does this mean I'm in danger? Does this mean there's a way out of this nightmare?
I slowly extended my hand, hesitant. Should I touch it? What if it was a trap? What if it was just another trick from this cursed circus? But curiosity pushed me forward. I touched the paper, and felt a slight electric current run through my limbs. It wasn't just paper, it glowed with a faint light, as if it held a life of its own.
As soon as I touched it, the paper unfolded, transforming into a transparent screen, displaying rapidly changing texts and images. I couldn't read everything, but some words and images stuck in my mind: "Fear is the fuel," "Forgotten laughs," "Stolen tears," and a picture of a clown with a wide smile, but completely empty eyes.
I felt a slight dizziness, as if my mind was trying to absorb more information than it could handle. I closed my eyes again, and when I opened them, the screen had disappeared, and the paper had returned to its original form, floating before me.
"What is this?" I asked in a faint voice. "Is this real?"
I received no answer. Silence returned to envelop the place, but this time it was a different silence, a silence that held anticipation, as if the entire circus was waiting for me to do something.
I suddenly remembered something else from those reference chapters. The goods box. Could there be something else in this circus, something that could help me understand what was happening?
I began to wander through the circus, searching for anything that resembled a "goods box." The atmosphere was dark, and the lighting dim, adding to the feeling of disorientation and confusion. I passed by dilapidated tents, old carts, and rusty toys. Everything suggested oblivion, a past that no longer existed.
I reached a dark corner, where there was a large cart, similar to old circus carts, but it was covered in dust and cobwebs. I approached it cautiously, and felt my heart race. Was this it? Was this the "goods box"?
The cart was tightly closed, but I noticed an old, rusty lock. I tried to open it, but it was stubborn. I felt frustration creep in. Was this my fate? To remain trapped in this cursed circus, searching for answers I would never find?
Suddenly, I remembered something else from those reference chapters: "Supernatural abilities." Could I have supernatural abilities? Could I be able to open this lock somehow?
I extended my hand towards the lock, and closed my eyes. I tried to focus, to summon any hidden power that might be dormant within me. I felt a slight warmth gather in my hand, then I felt something change in the lock. I opened my eyes, and saw the lock slowly disassembling, as if an invisible force had opened it.
"I don't believe this!" I whispered, my eyes widening in astonishment. "Did I do this?"
I pushed the cart door, and it swung open, revealing the darkness inside. I hesitated for a moment, then entered. The cart was larger than it appeared from the outside, as if it contained an entire world within it. There were stacked boxes, and objects covered with cloth covers.
I began to search among the boxes, dusting off objects, looking for anything that might make sense. I passed by broken dolls, torn clown costumes, and rusty circus tools. Everything suggested ruin, a past that no longer existed.
And in a dark corner, I saw a large wooden box, different from the other boxes. It bore strange marks, symbols I didn't understand. I approached it, and felt a strange feeling, a feeling of attraction, as if the box was calling me.
"Let's see what you have here, old Frey," I said in a faint voice, using a strange expression I didn't know where it came from. Was it part of my lost memory?
I opened the box, and froze in my place, my eyes wide open. How could I not, after seeing what lay inside the box?
My lips trembled as I held that black device that had accompanied me for many years. No doubt about it... this was my personal computer.
I carefully held it and placed it on the old desk inside the cart, and stared at it like a madman. I noticed some bruises scattered everywhere on its surface... bruises it sustained when I dropped it in the past.
This was the computer I had used for many years. The computer on which I wrote the novel while typing on its keyboard.
What exactly is happening here? Are they mocking me? Is this part of a game?
With a trembling voice and anticipation, I opened the computer, looking to the future, or perhaps to the past that still haunted me. Will this computer tell me the truth? Will it reveal my true identity, and why I am in this cursed circus?
The computer screen slowly lit up, revealing a familiar desktop, but it looked strange in this place. There were icons for programs I no longer remembered using, and files whose content I no longer remembered.
I opened a folder named "My Novels." It was empty. Nothing. I felt a deep disappointment. Was all this just an illusion? Was this computer just a replica, holding no real memories?
But I didn't give up. I started searching in hidden files, in folders that were not visible. I knew, somehow, that there was something, something important, waiting for me.
And after a long search, I found one file, a file with a strange name: "The Shattered Consciousness Circus Project."
I opened the file, and felt my heart pound. There were texts, images, diagrams. Everything indicated that this circus, this madness I was living in, was not just a nightmare, but a project, a big project, a project I might have been a part of.
I read the first lines, and felt my blood freeze in my veins. "Goal: To create an advanced psychological simulation environment to test the limits of human consciousness."
A simulation environment? Does this mean I'm not real? Does this mean everything I see, everything I feel, is just an illusion?
I continued reading, and every word increased my confusion and fear. There were details about "participants," about "memory control," about "reality reprogramming."
Then I reached a part that talked about the "supervisor." There was a name written in bold: "Kai."
"Kai"? Is this me? Am I the supervisor of this project? Did I create this circus? Did I put myself in this nightmare?
I felt a hysterical laugh rise from deep within me. A crazy laugh, a laugh that didn't belong to me, but it came out of me, filling the cart, filling the circus, filling the whole world.
If I am the supervisor, if I created this, can I stop it? Can I get out of this nightmare? Or am I doomed to stay here forever, wandering through the twisted corridors of my memory, searching for a truth I will never find?
I suddenly closed the computer, as if trying to stop the flood of information that was pouring over me. I felt cold envelop me, a coldness not from the air, but from the realization that I might be my own worst enemy.
I got out of the cart, and closed the door behind me. I no longer saw the circus in the same way. It was no longer just an abandoned place, but a prison, a prison I had built myself.
I looked at the clowns and dolls, and felt their gazes follow me. Do they know? Are they laughing at me? Are they part of this project?
I returned to the place where I found the flying paper. It was still there, floating in the air, as if waiting for me to read it again.
I extended my hand, and took it. This time, there was no electricity, no glow. It was just an ordinary paper.
I read the title again: "The Survivor's Guide in the Shattered Consciousness Circus."
Am I a survivor? Or am I just a prisoner in this endless circus?
The last words in the guide were: "Trust no one, not even yourself."
I felt despair creep into my heart. If I can't trust myself, how will I find my way out of this nightmare?
I looked at the dark sky above the circus, and felt the stars smile mockingly at me. Is this my fate? To remain trapped here, searching for answers I will never find?
Suddenly, I heard a sound, a faint sound, like a whisper from afar. "The show is not over yet, Kai."
I turned quickly, but saw no one. Was this just another illusion? Or was there someone else in this circus, someone who knew the truth?
I felt a chill creep into my bones again. This circus was not just a place, but a living entity, a breathing entity, an entity watching me, an entity waiting for me to take the next step in this crazy game.
I realized that I was no longer just a hero in a horror story, but had become part of the show, part of the madness.
And the show, as I was told, was not over yet.