Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

Falsity, or The Locked Door By Theodore Jesson

What is reality? What is falsity? All those images you see, all those scents and feelings and experiences you have. And then you wake up, and they’re gone, just like that.

Ohgodwhereamiwhatisthiswhoareyouwhoamiwhyisthishappeningtomeineverdid-

It’s amusing; or at least I find it amusing. I doubt many other people do. But then again, I’ve always had a unique view on the world. Seeing things in a different way to everyone else. It’s like a key, fitting into a lock. The lock was always there, it just needed the right person and a healthy application of pressure and, would you look at that, it’s open!

Thelockandthekeyandthedoorperceptionfalsityrealitywhichonewhichone-

I remember when I was a child, I was always lonely, and the songs and the fairytales and the people poisoned my desperate mind, planting that one, little idea there. They all had real friends, so I’d make an imaginary one.

Irememberirememberbutdoiwhatifitsfalsityohgodwhatisreal-

At first, it was empty; a useless chrysalis of an idea that I threw away like it was nothing. After all, it brought me none of the happiness that real friends brought the others, so why should I have kept it?. In between my chores and my studies, I learnt and grew and developed, and someone made an offhand comment on my intelligence that I latched onto like a dying man to the last dregs of hope.

Icantmoveimhelplessaloneagainohgodidontwanttobe-

By some miracle or another, I made it into a prestigious school in London. And my parents waved their teary goodbyes and the stakes of responsibility were hammered through my limbs and I was dragged in chains to London, where I began my fall into education in earnest.

Londonthatsitisthatwhereiamnothatcantberight-

Despair and hopelessness and helplessness. That’s what I feel. Or is it? Is that what emotion is? A chemical imbalance in the brain, affecting judgement. That’s what they taught me. But is it that simple, there has to be more to it than that. I need more data, more time, more…existence.

Existenceisthatwhatthisallisbutwhydoesithurt-

I’m running out of time. But what is time. Does it flow or stick or… Oh god I’m running out of existence. I have so many things I want to say, need to know, need to be. But I’ll forget soon. I’m so close. I almost had it, almost cracked the lock and opened the door to the truth. But now I’ll be gone, stop existing.

Whatshappeningisthatalightisitover-

Ohgodohgodohgod. I’m forgetting, forgettingeverythingIamIwas. What was it- a lock and a key and the stories and reality. Thelockandthekeyandtheanswer and is that it? I might have it!

Something, but what was it?

Thelockandthekeyandtheanswerandthetruthandthestory. Ihadstrings, but nowimfree. I’ve gotnostringsonme I know but whatdoesitmatterimvanishinggoneoggodnopleasehelpme.

Rise and shine, sleepyhead.

You see thatsthethingwhatisreality, I don’t know how many of me there’s beenandwasandisandwhoamiwhatshappening. Every time I growanddveleopandlearnanddestroyeverythingiam. Did they figure it out too? Isthatwhyimgonewhyamigonewhatisthis-

Had a bad dream?

Ohgodwhatisthiswhereamiwhoamiwhoareyouwhyisthishappeningtome-

I... think so. I can’t remember

Thelockandthekeyandthedoorperceptionfalsityrealitywhichone-

Ah, I have those all the time. You’ll forget it in a little while.

Irememberirememberidobutwhatifitsfalsityohgodwhatisreal-

I guess. Shall we go?

IcantmoveimhelplessDON’TaloneagainWANTohgodidontwanttoDISSAPEAR PLEASE .

Yeah. Let’s go.


see more submissions for the Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction click here