You sat at the old wooden table, running your fingers over the engraved roses and thorns along the edge, hidden under a homespun cloth of white and blue checkerboard. The table sat against a wall where a window let in the early morning sun, the dust in the farmhouse dancing in its bright light. You leaned to the right to see into the kitchen, and the tall woman was facing away from you, washing a mixing bowl in the sink and looking out a small window to her fields and cattle. She hummed her usual tune- an old song from the country where she was first raised.

"Would you like me to help?" You asked, looking around the doorway to the stove, which had different pots and pans stewing over the flames.

She waved a hand. "You'll do chores later in the morning, doch. I will not work you like horse, da? Children need rest, too."

You nodded to yourself and stayed occupied with the air of the room. In the corner near the kitchen doorway was a hutch filled with little figurines and music boxes, all handmade and encased in the glass cabinet. Despite the fine debris in the air, the hutch and its contents were always spotless and away from the fading effects of the morning rays.

She came in with a tray full of meats and bread and placed a dish in front of you. "Eat." She ordered, while taking a large helping of sausage and eggs for herself. You took a few slices of ham and two sausage, some grilled vegetables, and a little bowl of cut fruit. She watched with her blazing carnelian eyes as you ate and watched the sun pour gold onto the horizon.

"The winds are getting cold." She said, mostly to herself as she followed your gaze beyond the panes of glass. "We will have to herd cattle closer."

"Okay."

She looked at you, then smirked. "You have question in your eyes. I can tell."

"Well, I just haven't thought of this place in a long time." The words seemed as strange out loud as they were in your head and you blushed. "I'm.. Remembering all of this?"

"You should know why your memories of this place, of me, return to you now. I explained this magic before you went to city."

"You did?"

The woman sighed and set her mug of coffee down after a small sip. "You've already forgotten much, then. Are you not listening, doch?"

"Listening to what?"

"Don't forget."

*

You woke as the blaring light over your head flickered on and you winced at the sudden absence of darkness. The door opened and Michael rapped his knuckles on the door.

"May I come in?"

"Mnh-hmm." You spread your arms out wide to stretch and groaned as the muscles loosened and joints popped. He came in with a tray of food and a tall glass of water, as well as his usual smile.

You weren't sure why, but you enjoyed how he always smiles.

always smiled

"I brought you breakfast, since the cafeteria's closed for the sermon this morning." He brought the tray to where you sat and took a seat next to you. "We can relax for a little while, since most of the laundry was done yesterday."

You nodded and ate the oatmeal first, the gooey cereal had a taste of apples and cinnamon and was topped with the sliced fruit. You took a long swig of the water before moving to the small batch of scrambled eggs. You offered Michael a slice of toast which he took gladly, and you noticed as you finished your meal that he was staring off into space.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You asked.

He turned without breaking his gaze. "Hm?" Then he snapped out of it and sighed. "Oh! I'm sorry, I was just thinking about the day. I have a lot of work to do after laundry."

When he said 'work', his face almost winced, and he looked down when he finished talking.

"What kind of work?"

He smiled faintly. "Paperwork. A lot of it. I'll probably be on the fourth floor all day into tomorrow at this rate." He looked over at you with a smile. "I'm glad you're here, Kalia. You have a lot of potential here, and you seem like a very nice person."

Michael's child-like innocence left you with an urge to punch his cheeks. You laughed a little instead.

"Glad I could be of some service." You said with a smile.

His smile widened. "If you're ready, we can get started. Leave the tray on the table; someone will come in to take care of it."

You followed him to the laundry room where there were a few white bags of clothes. You helped him drag a few to the machines and opened them up.

"Just separate the shirts from the pants." He said, placing a hand on two washing machines beside him.

"So what do you guys do, aside from helping knocked-out strangers?" You asked, pulling a few shirts from the bag and putting them into the left machine.

"Really, we're just a safe haven for people in need." He replied, mirroring your own actions with the pants in another bag. "Some of us have jobs outside of the community, which pays the bills. We don't ask anything from the city, other than peace and quiet."

"So you're a charity that doesn't actually have a charity?"

"I wouldn't call it a charity, Kalia. We don't receive anything from people outside of the group- we don't even accept donations. It's not what we're here for. We're just a family, trying to live our lives like everybody else."

"What if someone pretended to join and snuck a donation in?"

"Don't get any ideas." He said with a wink. "The leaders are the ones who work, anyways. You'd have to commit a lot of time to the community before pulling a stunt like that."

You paused. "Wait, you mean only a handful of all these people have jobs?"

"Only a handful of people can handle going outside, Kalia."

You fell silent for a while, sorting out the white pants from the white and red shirts.

White, white, red and white, white, red and white....

"Am I the only one who has other clothes?" You asked after a while.

"Well, maybe. I haven't seen another pair of outside clothes in a while."

"But... I've never seen clothes like these outside of this building."

"Those who still go out there have clothes they wear that are more appropriate, if I understand it right. Besides, it's easier to wash these clothes than a bunch of different colored ones."

"Ugh, okay. I'm confused." You tossed one more shirt into the wash before closing the lid roughly. "Just what is it that's so scary about going outside?!"

"What scary thing has come about in the last few years?"

Michael gave you a patient smile, and slowly the wheels began turning.

"Monsters?" You whispered. His smile got a little wider and you stood with your mouth agape. "You have an entire community of people who can't go outside... Because of monsters?"

His laugh echoed in the empty room. "Is that so hard to believe? What were you afraid of as a child? The dark? What was hiding in the darkness, then? What did children fear under the bed or behind a closet door?" He moved to another machine to repeat the process. "If you hated what someone was doing, you called them a monster; it was a term to take away their humanity. We were taught that they were evil things that stole souls and preyed on children. Now, they bag groceries and order food from restaurants. Some of them even own restaurants."

"Oh..." You felt guilty for not considering how drastic the change was for some people. Why it hadn't affected you in a similar manner came into question in your mind. Were you really so indifferent to the world? Had you grown that cold?

"I never thought of it that way." You muttered.

He chuckled again. "I envy you; to have such an ability to adapt to change is a great skill. Some would even argue it being crucial to evolving into better people. Survival of the fittest, and all."

"I think it's more apathy than anything else, on my part."

He glanced at you, then let out a huff as he shoved the last of the laundry on his side into the machine before shutting the lid and turning a dial. You took a few minutes to do the same, and he hopped up on a table and patted a spot next to him. You took his offer, sitting down on the surface and feeling the cold metal against your pants.

"Do you look on your friends and family with apathy, Kalia?" He asked after a moment of quiet.

You looked at him with surprise. "Why would I do that?"

"I think that's the key to adapting to change, or to surviving a world that changes so drastically so often." He hummed softly, letting his feet dangle at the end of the table. "Not just ignoring it, or 'rolling with the punches', but having that support. We've done that for a lot of people here, and they can go outside now and help more people who suffered the way they themselves had. It's an interesting theory, at least."

"It makes sense." You replied softly, which earned a smile from him.

"So, now that we've had such a deep conversation, how about we watch some TV?"

"Heh. That sounds alright."

"I'll get some water and a few snacks from the kitchen."

The movie he picked was a family vacation comedy, and it offered a few cheap laughs from the two of you before a small crowd came in to watch or play the board games stacked on the shelves. You gave room on the couch to a girl with mousy hair pulled in loose pigtails over her shoulders. She laughed the loudest, wiping tears from her face as she hooted over the clumsy father and awkward teenage son on the screen. You reached halfway through before you felt an ache in your chest, but you weren't sure why- considering the light-hearted attitude of the movie. A sudden wave of drowsiness filled your head and you closed your eyes for a while, letting the din of the room lull in the heavy sleep.

There was a strange sensation of falling, and your stomach felt as though it was flipping upward in slow motion. It reminded you of a time when you traveled somewhere, but you couldn't remember the transportation you had used before, and the sensation you were feeling right then was dull and dragging.

You felt yourself open your eyes to blinding white, but the walls of the building were far beyond where you lay. The overcast sky matched the hills of snow all around you, and you could see a small house among a line of trees and little stores. All of the shops surrounding the open field had their lights shut off and their doors locked tight, while the little red house's windows glowed with the welcoming warmth of fire.

You took a step into the snow, and it fell away from the pressure of your feet, leaving a slight chill much unlike its usual bite of cold. You felt unsure, but kept moving, feeling the warm flames inside more and more and you drew closer to the front door.

"Should I knock?" You asked yourself. "Maybe I should keep moving. What if there's monsters in there?"

Monsters. They came from the underground and could take a human soul. Everyone around you feared monsters. Shouldn't you?

For you, something about monsters left a pit in your stomach that grew uncomfortable as you sat on the porch to deliberate. You could hear the subtle steps of beings inside the home, but there was no telling what they were for sure. You shuddered and stood up to keep moving, but when you looked out into the snow you saw only tall narrow strands of wheat by the thousands, shimmering under the wind and sun.

A small breeze picked up around you, pushing the stalks down and back up again like a tidal wave of gold. Shuffling through the wheat from the valley before you was the blonde Russian, cutting bunches and putting them in a large basket she held in her arm.

"You pull at middle, then swing like this." She demonstrated, collecting more wheat into her basket. "If you tire, switch arms. There is much to harvest before winter comes."

"We have to collect... All of this?..." Your voice trailed off. Were you always there, in the field? You felt your head throb but there was no pain- only the sound of blood pumping in your ears.

She glanced up at you. "Are you remembering?"

You didn't answer, but grabbed the basket off of the ground that you had dropped. Leaning down, you grabbed a handful of wheat and swung your scythe down against it, cutting it from the ground and setting it into the basket.

"This doesn't feel right." You said slowly. "Wasn't it raining when we did this?"

"Da." She replied bluntly. "We do not have time for details anymore. You are fading, doch."

"What does that mean?"

"You are fading."

You felt your eyes open again, and the sound of the room suddenly increased in volume as you returned to consciousness. The movie was nearing its end and the crowd was laughing at a slapstick sequence that was happening in the finale. You sighed with relief, feeling whatever memory of the dream you had had slowly fading away. Still, a nagging feeling pulled on the back of your mind.

fading

You stood up and let another young man take your seat and you wandered out into the hallway. Looking back before the door shut, you saw Michael check his watch with a furrowed brow, then his face softened as he looked at you and gestured to the door with a slight nod of his chin. You and he walked out and he took a deep breath before exhaling with a small groan.

"Off to the daily grind, I guess." He said, looking at you tiredly. "Not your kind of movie, hm?"

"I guess not." You chortled, remembering that you had been asleep for most of it. You tried to remember what you had dreamed about, but nothing came to mind.

"Well, make yourself at home." He spread his arms to the building and grinned. "There's plenty of water to drink in the kitchen- there should be pitchers and water bottles. Oh, and I think we got a few new books? You could check those out in the library or bring a few to your room. Just grab a red bookmark for the one you're reading so the cleaning crew doesn't bring it back before you're done."

"Got it."

He started to walk off, then turned with a shy smile. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"Yeah," you smiled back just as timidly, "that sounds good."

With that, he set off to the restricted set of stairs and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you in the long empty hallway- save the one or two people moving from one room to the next.

After a moment you walked into the library and grabbed a book, settling into one of the large black cushions in the corner. It was a history book on the war against monsters, and after a few pages you felt yourself fading off into sleep. You decided to put the book away and stave off rest for a little longer, considering you had already napped through an entire movie.

With nothing else to do, you casually wandered down the quiet corridor, eyeing the door that turned off toward the shower rooms and the other side of the building. Curious, you moved past those doors and headed to the ones leading upstairs, climbed the steps, and walked past your room and the others to the double doors on the other end of the hall. There, you saw that the hall turned a corner to the other side, same as downstairs.

You wondered if you were allowed to go that way, considering Michael never even mentioned it having extended this far and around to the other side of the building. You realized that you also had no idea just how large this building was; there could easily be extensive hallways and stairwells that lead to more areas that you haven't seen in your however-many days of being there. How long would it take to see it all if you just followed Michael around? You wanted to chastise yourself for being as clingy as you had been for the last few days.

You peeked around the corner and saw the hall was empty and shorter, with no doors. You continued on until it turned another corner, where an identical hall with doors on either side. You went to the first door and knocked, but there was no answer. Slowly turning the knob, you pushed it open to reveal a room with a few bookmarked novels and a pile of clothes sitting at the foot of a plain white bed.

It's just more bedrooms. You sighed to yourself and shut the door. Probably the men's side or something...

Something on another door caught your eye, and as you walked closer to it you saw it had a light yellow sign:

R O O M U N A V A I L A B L E

Simple as it was to understand, your curiosity urged you to step into the room, but not without sticking one of your slip-on shoes in between the door to keep it from locking behind you. You felt very thankful to yourself for not forgetting.

The room was completely dark, but a flick of a switch beside the door on the outside wall rectified that, exposing a room with a large crack in the ceiling. Aside from that one blemish, the room was as plain as the others, only with no bed or evidence of being lived in for quite a while.

You almost left when you heard a noise come from above. You nearly jumped at the sudden voice that was emitting some strange sound from the fourth floor.

The fourth floor. You weren't even allowed up there...

"Hello?" Your voice seemed amplified in the emptiness of the bedroom, and the noise abruptly stopped. "Is there someone up there?"

There was nothing for a while, then a male voice came muffled from above.

"Who are you?" They asked,

You felt reluctant to answer, as you were very obviously in a restricted room speaking to someone on a restricted floor. It was the first time you had actually done anything wrong since you had arrived, however, so you pushed your worries and insecurities aside.

"I'm Kalia." You replied. "Were you working? I'm sorry-"

"No!" The voice cut you off almost frantically. "No, it's... I wasn't expecting to hear from anyone, let alone a girl. What's your name again?"

"Kalia."

"Kalia, huh? My name's-" He cut himself off for a moment. "Sorry, I thought someone was coming in. If they knew I could talk to someone from in here, they'd kill me."

"Heh, same here, probably." You remembered that you were technically trespassing into the room to begin with, and felt guilt crawl down your spine. "I can't stay for very long, but I wanted to know what goes on up there."

"I just got here, myself." His tone was uneasy, and it sounded like something was jingling upstairs. Christmas decorations? "I don't know what I'm supposed to do..."

"So you're a leader?"

"A what?"

"A leader. My friend, Michael, says that the fourth floor is for leaders only."

"I'm... I don't know what that is. I kind of... I want to go home."

The noise from before started again, but now that you were closer you could hear him sobbing.

"Hey, hey!" You tried to calm him down, his panicked cries almost contagious. "I-it's okay! Look, I know it's really confusing here, but once the storm dies down it'll be safe to leave!"

"T-they told me I needed to stay here..." His voice faltered and he choked back a sob. "That I w-was going to help t-them.."

"I'm sure they'll-"

"Fuck! I want to go HOME!" His crying got louder and you started to sweat.

Is this guy nuts?

"Sh! Keep it down!" You glanced back at the door as he continued to rant from the crack in the tiles over your head. "I can't be here with you if you cause so much noise!"

He began to wail a little softer, and after a few sniffles he sighed. "Sorry... I'm just really out of it right now. I think they gave me something. Who are these people?"

"They're just a community of people that help each other. I'm sure they just saw you in pain and gave you some pills or something; the same thing happened to me."

"So you're stuck here, too?"

"Yeah, while it's storming outside."

"That sucks. This place is weird."

"Well-" He was right, and the longer you spoke to him the weirder it felt to be in the strange building- a building with no natural sunlight, and no desire for the outside world. The room felt a bit colder, and you wondered if they had heat on the upper floor.

"I should go soon, but is there... I want to help you, somehow."

He was silent, then you heard another jingle.

"Could you... Could you sing something?"

"Sing?"

"I used to... There was a performer I knew once... And they did all sorts on TV, but the best was the singing. I just.. I feel like I really need to hear that again."

"I, um, I haven't sung anything in a while-"

"I don't-!... I don't mind... Just... Please?"

Without another word, you sat against the wall directly below the crack, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

"Ice-age heat wave, can't complain.

If the world's at large, why should I remain?

Walked away to another plan.

Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand...."

*

You sat alone at dinner, though a table of familiar faces invited you, telling them you weren't feeling well.

You stared down at the plate of mashed potatoes and gravy spilling over onto the chicken and green beans on your small plate. You went with a juice instead of water, but even that sat full on the table. Everyone around you ate happily, dipping warm biscuits in the meaty sauce piled on their potatoes and washing it down with water or a wine that was brought out for the special supper. With your stomach in knots, none of your food appealed to you, and you gently pushed it away.

"Trouble eating again?" You heard Michael come over from behind you and sat to your left, setting his plate on the table and looking at you with a soft, but concerned look on his face.

"I'm just not feeling well." You stated.

"I leave you alone for less than a day and you're already getting sick." He sighed dramatically and put his face in his hands, shaking his head. "I guess I'll have to cancel my work schedule for tomorrow. What a shame."

You smiled and lightly pushed him with your shoulder. "I won't keep you from your duties. I just..." Your smile faded again. "I was just thinking of this community. Why is it such a secluded place? Why are all the windows painted? Why is what the leaders do such a big secret?"

All of the questions you were asking were questions you couldn't believe you didn't ask before. What made you so complacent? What kept you from asking 'why'?

"You do seem a bit on edge. Have you had any water? I wouldn't want you to dehydrate-"

"I've drank plenty, Michael. Maybe I'd just like to see the sky when I wake up in this place. How about we go outside?"

"The storm-"

"Some lousy snow isn't going to kill me, Michael. Just some sunlight or something." You were careful not to raise your voice, since the interrogation you were putting the poor boy through wasn't to really find answers; since you met the man on the fourth floor, you realized you paid no attention to the behaviors of the people there.

Now that you did, you felt almost exposed by the contrast.

Everyone was too easy-going. When you asked Sarah when she had last seen the sun, she shrugged and asked if you wanted to watch a movie. When you talked about a Vulkin you met at work, the girl you were talking to almost hissed at you before walking away. These people weren't just afraid of monsters- they seemed as though they hated them.

Michael fiddled with his hands for a moment. "It... Isn't about the storm, really... It's the doors. They're blocked."

"Blocked?"

"We can't get through them right now."

"What is blocking the doors?"

"... Snow."

You watched him carefully, seeing him looking away with nerves hiding behind a calm expression that was fading fast. He played with his hands a little, picking at his nails and almost looking like he wanted to bite them off.

"Um." You grabbed his attention with your tone. "Get me a shovel, then."

"W-well, um." He groaned and buried his face away from your gaze into his arm as he sank to the table. "They were sort of... Left outside... Before the storm hit."

"Are you joking?"

"That's why I have to go to the Leader's Floor this week." He mumbled in his sleeve. "The other scribes have to dig out the shovels and make some sort of path so some of the leaders can brave the storm for food and supplies! I'm sorry! I didn't think I'd have to explain it... I thought you were happy."

His voice went quiet and you felt a twinge of guilt for making him sad.

"I've been happy, Michael... I just miss my family."

He seemed to wince at the word, and sighed. "I know. I promise, as soon as they can get through the snow, I'll bring you to my favorite-"

"C'mon, Mikey. Don't get ahead of yourself."

The voice was dark, rough, and chuckled as it followed the shape of a man in a gray sweatshirt. Michael tensed immediately when he heard the voice, and the man sat down across from the two of you, most of his face hidden by his hood.

"It's Michael." He spat back, and for the first time you saw anger rise up on his face.

"Heh." The mouth you could see curled up into a smirk. "Little tyke's getting riled, huh? Why don't you let us adults talk for a bit."

"I'm two years older than you, you fuck."

Well, that was very unexpected. You almost wanted to scold the enraged blonde you had seen this whole time as soft and sweet. His eyes didn't leave the hooded figure, but you were glad about it; the look in his eyes had no relevance to his usual nature and it scared you.

"Is that wrath I'm hearing, Michael?" The man emphasized the word and Michael flinched back, his confident malice in his eyes disappearing into agitation. "Goodness, me. I don't think Charles would like to hear about a wrathful scribe."

It was the second time it was said, but the word 'scribe' rang out of place. Wrath, also, seemed strange in context. You wondered what he was getting at that could make Michael draw back so quickly.

"I don't want you near Kalia without me." He replied, your name catching your attention and bringing your gaze back to the man. There was a long thin blemish creeping from the shadow of his hood, stretching along the left of his nose and stopping an inch above the corner of his crooked smile. It looked like a faded scar, but you couldn't tell.

"Aw, no fun." He cooed. "Well, too bad. I need to speak to your little modest mouse alone."

The nickname made you freeze, and a cold sweat hit your back. Michael started to squirm in his seat.

"Anything you have to say to her, you can say-"

"Beat it, short stop." His tone was sharp and Michael almost jumped out of his seat before slowly walking to the doorway, looking back at you nervously as you sat helpless with this obscure villain.

The man turned his head to face you, and with a deceptively softer smile he pulled the hood away to reveal dark blue eyes lightly veiled by brown hair. The scar on his face extended over his nose and across his right brow, and if you hadn't caught glimpse of it in the shadow you might never have seen it as it almost matched his skin tone in the artificial light.

"I take a little bit of enjoyment in scaring that kid." He chuckled brightly, his demeanor suddenly much less threatening. "I don't know about you, but the board games get a little predictable after a while in here."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" You growled, making his grin twitch at the sides.

The easy going demeanor faded fast. "I'm the one who caught you in a restricted area." He tutted. "Don't you know that's against the rules here? Or anywhere? You're probably not an idiot, so why would you be in a room- all alone- singing hipster tunes to yourself?"

"Hipster-"

"It's because you weren't." He leaned in over the table. "Let me fill you in on something, cutie. Guys like me have one job: to keep order in this community. If I happen to notice that someone's rattling cages it's my job to stop them."

You drew back at the accusation. "I'm not trying to rattle cages. If I'm not allowed to go in that hall, I won't. That's no reason for you to threaten me or my friend."

He pulled back fast and shrugged with his eyes shut. "Hey, now. Didn't mean to scare ya. Is it the scar? Heh." He opened one eye and chuckled. "Well, you can blame yourself for that. Never thought I'd see your face again after all these years."

What? "Am I supposed to recognize you?"

His smile went down a little, then he shook his head with a gruff laughter. "Ha ha... No, I guess not. Try to behave yourself, sweet cheeks, before you leave. I'd hate to have to... Step in."

He got up and began to walk toward the exit behind you, then a hand roughly grabbed your shoulder and you gasped as he leaned into your ear.

"Oh, and try not to wander alone. Fresh meat like yours is tempting to a pack of wolves."

With that, he was gone. Before Michael returned to you, your disillusionment started to settle in.

This wasn't a safe place anymore.

...

fading