black business suits
I am descending in an elevator, the sound of cables deafening as they loop a soundtrack of screeching and grinding as I start to take in my surroundings. The elevator is one of those old American shutter door models, allowing me to look out through my oversized bird-cage at fleeting glimpses of the space beyond, constantly interrupted by the aged iron cross-members of the elevator shaft.
Details filter into my brain. I eye several long, horizontal pane glass windows now high above me and through them gleams the deathly white light of a full moon, illuminating the moving silhouette created by the boney branches of a tree bustling in the wind.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and stare downwards at the patch of illuminated floor space to catch a brief look at a group of 4 to 5 people, they vanish back into the shadows quicker than any normal person could but I recognise they are all wearing completely black business suits.
Suddenly the lift hits the ground floor and with a cutesy 'bong' I find myself pulling the door back and stepping into the cavernous 'room'.
More details. The room seems to have unnatural proportions, the large cathedral sized square space leading off growing slowly smaller and smaller, a strange perspective reminiscent of the corridor scene from "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory".
Banging from above as old hinged shutters start to close upon the windows extinguishing the precious natural light from the space. I start running towards the ever receding moonlight, my trainers echoing off the hard, cold concrete floor. I notice that in fact all the rooms sides are made from the dull, impenetrable... soft?
The floor starts to sag and give way from my weight. The concrete turning slowly into a slushy, grey ooze which I struggle to run over. The shutters close over the last slit of light bathing most of the space in a cloak of black darkness, although not entirely. The shutters are ancient and bits of wood have rotted and fallen to create thin gaps which the moonlight has exploited.
I start to sink within the porridge of concrete, I struggle to find something to grip onto and pull myself out but strangely I stop moving after a few moments, accepting the inevitable. As soon as I end my last desperate thrash the concrete immediately hardens and I hear footsteps getting closer and closer.
The group of suits appear ghostly from the black and close in on me, almost floating across the floor. In the last moments before they loom over me, I close my eyes and feel I'm drifting away.
Male, 21
Architecture student