Underground Manor - ONE

Underground Manor - ONE

Chapter One: The Loop Hall

He woke up with a throbbing headache, his memory of what happened the night before was a complete blank. He was lying in a very comfortable bed, though, in pyjamas he did not recognize. The sheets that lay atop of him were thick and soft with a blue and brown plaid pattern. The room was relatively small, and retained a quaint, cozy atmosphere. On the opposite wall, there was an empty closet. There was a dresser and small wooden desk to his right. Next to his bed sat a nightstand, complete with a clock (reading 7:42 AM), a glass of water, and his watch. Opposite his dresser, there was a window with a gorgeous view of a forest, the morning fog still lingering among the roots.

He looked about the room trying to recognize anything about it. Nothing came to him, and nothing recollected in his mind of last night’s events. He caught his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. His chestnut hair was a mess, per usual, but his eyes looked aged at least ten years. They were slightly bloodshot and dark bags hung beneath them.
He heard a muffled voice. It was soon followed by others, and a bit of laughter. He opened the bedroom door and looked up and down the corridor. It was empty and seemed endless in both directions.

“H-Hello?” he said quietly. “Hello!” he said a little louder. No answer. The voices continued to chat genially. The corridor was lined with black and white photographs of parks and buildings which he admired as he walked. There were amazing architectural photos. The one right outside his door seemed like an impossible shot. It was a view of the Eiffel Tower from the top down. The photographer must have been able to fly to get that shot. Not in an airplane, but something like a hang glider, which French authorities would surely prohibit. He walked on, admiring the art.

There were no other doors, and no stairwell. He’d been walking for at least ten minutes by now. So far, it’d just been photo after photo, but no door, no exit. Until finally, he saw a door just a little farther down. It was ajar.

Perhaps someone is inside! He ran to it, stopped in front of it and looked in.
He stared at a cozy bedroom, complete with a dresser, and wooden desk along the wall. There was bed with the sheets thrown to one side, and a nightstand that held a clock (reading 7:54 AM), a glass of water and his watch. It had a lovely view of the forest, the fog having lifted more while he wandered.

I’m dreaming, he thought.

“It’s a loop hall,” said a voice, not one foot away from him. He jumped. There was a young girl, probably a few years younger than himself, standing next to him. She was dressed in a plain button down shirt and a pair of old jeans. She had deep blue eyes behind rectangular glasses. Her choppy blond hair fell neatly around her face.

“What?” he repeated, staring blankly. He was thoroughly confused, and she could see it in his face.

“I’m Schroeder,” she said, taking his limp hand and shaking it. “Are you hungry, Miles?”

“How can you-? What is-? Where did you-?” he tried to find the words that would properly convey how utterly lost he was. His stammering did the job.

“They’ll explain everything downstairs. Are you hungry?” She showed little outward friendly emotion, and Miles guessed that she would not be overly patient with him. He decided to give listening to her a try. He kept his mouth shut and nodded. Schroeder turned to the unusual photo of the Eiffel Tower, opposite of the door. She pushed on the bottom of the frame, and it slid stiffly into the wall. Miles looked to his left and right. The scene of the perpetual corridor flickered for a few moments, and was soon replaced by a new, real, corridor. This one, contrary to the other, was significantly shorter, had several doors (all closed at the moment), and had a wooden staircase at the far end. Miles looked back into the room. The window no longer showed a forest, but instead, a second floor view of a humble roofed bridge and gentle stream running beneath. Schroeder gently closed Miles’ mouth, which was gaping with amazement.

“The loop hall,” she began, slipping her hands into her pockets and walking towards the staircase, “is an illusion. We get several guests here at the Underground, and they seem to enjoy wandering. It used to take forever to find them in this huge mansion, so we had this loop hall installed - my idea. The guest can wander all they like and not go anywhere.”

Miles was impressed, not only with the loop hall, but with the manor itself from what he could see. It was old and beautiful.

“How does it work? And how, might I ask, do you know my name?” he said slowly and quietly, remembering to be polite.

“I think Antonia’s making pancakes,” Schroeder said, ignoring his question. “Want some coffee? You look like hell.”

Okay. Definitely dreaming, he decided.

“How kind of you to notice,” Miles said. “Yes, I’d love some coffee, thank you.” He glanced helplessly towards Schroeder, wishing his dream could have greeted him with someone nicer. He hoped that the others would not be like her.