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I love to write! I am currenly writing a book series with my friends. I can't wait to write for teen inc!
Tim’s vision was blurred. The world looked hazy, as though he had just woken up from a deep sleep. As he sat up, he clenched his thigh in pain. Pulling up his shorts, he saw a bruise the size of a grapefruit. “That’s going to hurt in the morning,” he thought. He felt around his head and also found a bump. Looking at himself, he saw that he was dripping wet all over his body.
“Where am I?”
As Tim observed the room he was in, though his vision was blurry, he could see that he was placed on the floor. He tried to remember what had happened before, but nothing came to him. As he lifted his hand, he landed on something that felt like a wood table. Tim tried to stand up using the surface. He quickly realized that what he was holding onto was a folding table, and as it gave in, he crumpled to the floor.
Tim was lucky he didn’t hit his head. As he looked up, his face was just inches away from the rest of the table. On the bright side, the fall did wake him up, and he could see clearly now. As he looked around, he realized that he was in his house. “My living room…” he thought.
He gazed around the room. Every single thing was copied, every stain, every vase, every detail. However, he quickly realized that there was one thing missing: the doorway. In his house, the doorway led to a hallway, which led to the kitchen. For this room, however, there wasn’t a door in sight. In fact, the two windows that were in his living room weren’t there either. He moved toward the wall where the door normally would be. He felt it, as though he thought he could find the doorway. No such luck. He felt for the windows. Same as the door. Tim realized that he was stuck inside.
He remembered a time when he was young, about a birthday party that he went to. The party was at an escape room, a puzzle that was spread out across the room. He realized that this wasn’t much different than it. The only problem was that there were doors in the party room, but not in this one. Tim decided to figure this out like it was an escape room.
Deciding to look for clues was a good idea. Within five minutes he had found a box in the old secret laundry chute that was in his home. He found it when he was only 6; he dropped his stuffed animal inside, but it didn’t come out. He found it a month later outside the other end. Looking at the box, he found a small hatch on it. The hatch was covered by a coded lock.
Ok. He thought. That was something similar to the party. What Tim had to do was, using the clues around the room, figure out the code for the lock. He shook the box, and heard something small bounce around inside. Tim assumed it was a key. He needed that key.
But where’s the keyhole? He thought, looking around the room, remembering the absence of a door or windows. He pushed that thought away. Once he got the key, he would look for the keyhole. Right now, he needed the code.
He started looking around the room. After being in an escape room once, he reminded himself that the code could be anywhere, in anything, and on anything. He searched through the easiest parts first; the couch, under the table, and the bookshelf. He looked through one book and realized that all the pages were blank. Noticing this, he looked through all the books quickly, but nothing was there. When moving to the potted plant, he searched the giant vase first. He found 12 rulers. As he took them out, he noticed that one was incomplete, having only 11 inches. He searched behind the big painting on the wall, the side table, even behind the couch. After his search, he sat down on the couch, thinking about what he had seen. Something that had intrigued him was the 12 rulers hidden in the potted plant. It made him wonder: were they part of the code?
He felt an itch on his upper arm. When he scratched it, a sharp pain made him pull his hand away. He lifted up his sleeve, and saw a black tattoo. It was the three numbers 3, 5, and 8.
He face-palmed himself. He had just told himself that the code could be on anything, including himself! He quickly entered the digits into the lock, and heard the small click that he wanted to hear. He removed the lock and slid the hatch open.
He was right: a key. The only problem now was finding a keyhole. He looked around the room, trying to see if he missed something. He did; just not a keyhole. A small, strange-shaped indent was inside the wall. He looked back on the couch, and saw the lock. He gazed at the dent again, and realized the similarity in shape. He quickly grabbed the lock, lined it up, and slid it in.
Something was happening inside the walls. As he slid the lock in, something had grabbed it and pulled it all the way into the wall. Now a small clicking sound was played every few seconds. He thought it sounded like a clock, until something appeared in replacement of the lock: a keyhole.
“Yes!” He thought. Holding the key in his trembling hand, he slid it through the keyhole. He turned it once to the left, and once to the right. The clicking sound started again, until a doorway appeared. The blank wall, where windows were in his living room, now stood an old, red door. He looked back at the room once, before opening it, and stepping into the room.
The room was literally a mirror.
All the walls, ceiling, and floor were mirrors. The light in the room was confusing, and the mirrors were so distorting that he couldn’t see where the light was coming from. Tim hadn’t realized he had no shoes on until this moment, because the mirrors were cold and wet.
“Weird,” he thought for the third time. As he went further into the room, he heard a clicking sound, followed by a sound like nails on a chalkboard. He turned around, and saw a mirror slide over the red door. He rushed to it, but the mirror closed, and became one of the walls. He banged where the mirror was, trying to crack it, trying to do anything. But it was hopeless.
He sat down in the middle. Now he had no idea what to do. There wasn’t anything here! No clues, no nothing! This wasn’t an escape room! It was a prison cell! If prison cells were all mirrors.
But his mind changed quickly…
Tim looked up immediately. There was some kind of crack in the mirror on the ceiling.
Tim got hit with a drop of water.
“Drip. Drip. Drip.”
Whatever it was, it was dripping faster. He moved out of the middle, as the drops became a stream of water. He saw glass start falling from the crack. He kept backing up until he hit the wall. He watched the crack got bigger, and bigger, until a huge shard of glass broke off. As it shattered on the floor, water started pouring out from the ceiling.
Tim started panicking. He knew what would happen next; the water would fill up the room, thus Tim would drown. He needed to find a way out: now. He needed to escape.
He looked for the mirror that covered up the red door. But when sitting in the middle, he lost his sense of direction. He turned around to the wall he was closest to and started pounding on it. He was making no dent. He tried another wall. All the others. No dent.
The water was up to his ankles now. Tim rapidly started losing hope. He started thinking about what would happen.
“It seems slow now,” he thought, “But it will be especially slow when you run out of air.”
“Stop it!” he thought. “You need to escape! There must be a way!” He searched again. He couldn’t go up the pipe, he was way too big. But he gazed at the floor through the water.
He face-palmed himself again. “How did I miss the floor?!” he thought. As the water reached his waist, he dove under.
The water was fresh, so he could open his eyes. He pounded everywhere; every inch of the glass. He came to the middle and felt something shift. After he went up for air, he came to the middle again. He punched it once, and the mirror flipped. A small computer appeared, and on it, a three-digit entry code.
Tim surfaced. He stopped panicking a little. All he needed was a three digit code, and something would unlock. Hopefully something that would save his life.
He tried to think. Since there was nothing in this room, there must have been some code in the last room. He thought hard. The bookshelf...the plant…the rulers! The rulers have been the key this entire time! There were twelve rulers, but 12 isn’t three digits. However, by doing some quick math, twelve rulers have 144 inches total. That must be his code.
His head clanged against the ceiling while he came up for air. He needed to dive, and he needed to dive now. The cold water surrounded his face as he dove towards the code. A little keypad appeared when he got close to it, and he started typing the code.
1,4, and 4.
The numbers disappeared for a second, but something happened. The clicking started again, but stopped abruptly:
Three “X”s appeared on the screen. Tim started to panic again. He headed up for air.
When he surfaced, he hit his nose on the ceiling. There wasn’t any space for his head. He could only bend his neck back to get his mouth to air.
“This is it,” he thought, “This is where I end. I have no more idea-wait!” He remembered that one of the rulers had only 11 inches, so he needed to enter the code one more time.
He took two big breaths before diving for the last time. He arrived at the keyboard and entered the three digits: 1,4, and 3. The clicking sound started again. It went on, and on, and on, until he was running out of breath. Then it stopped abruptly: the computer flipped over, and Tim was sucked into some kind of giant pipe.
The pipe was dark. It was big enough for him to swim in it, and probably big enough to sit as well. He was moving fast with the flood of water around hm; how far, he didn’t know. As the pipe straightened out, Tim hit something hard. It stopped him from moving with the water. The water continued to drain out, and the flood soon became a stream, then a drizzle.
“Good third attempt.”
A voice came from outside the pipe. He couldn’t tell where it was. He looked around, still panting from the rush of water that carried him down. There was something strange about the voice. It sounded familiar; like he had heard it recently. But he couldn’t pin a name on it. It worried him.
“Test number three complete,” The voice said. Tim heard another voice around him, but he couldn’t hear what it was saying. The first voice spoke again. “Subject followed the same path as in the second attempt. Resetting escape room.” The voice stopped. He heard sounds from outside the pipe. Footsteps.
“Mom!” Tim was so happy to hear his mother’s voice. If only he could cut through the pipe; then he could get to her. He suddenly had so many questions.
“Mom, get me out of here! What’s going on? What’s happening?” He kept asking.
“It’s okay honey, you’re almost done. How many more times does my son have to lose his memory?” she said. Another man’s voice said something, but he couldn’t make out what it was.
And then he remembered.
He had done the escape room twice before! He had been put in it by some crazy scientists! And after each attempt, they erased his memory! There was a machine that went on his head and-
An abrupt noise cut him off. A buzzing sound came out from above him. Something latched onto his head. It felt like a metal helmet that was too small for him. He grabbed it immediately and tried to pull it off. No luck. His mind started racing. He was remembering! This machine took his memories away until something provoked him to remember. He needed to get this thing off his head. The buzzing increased. He kept pulling, tugging, pushing at it, but nothing worked. He started panicking.
“Mom!” he shouted. He started crying. He tugged at it so hard, his hands started hurting. He could feel his head shaking from whatever the instrument was doing. He remembered from the past times that the pipe moved just before it erased his memories.
And the pipe started moving.
Slowly at first, but then it moved with speed. It was like he was on a conveyor belt. A sudden pain in his head made him clutch the helmet hard. But something caught his eye on the part of the machine that went on his forehead: an exposed wire.
He started picking at it quickly. He saw light at the end of the pipe. That must be the escape room. The pain in his head increased, and drove him to cut the wire. As the wire snapped, a spark flew from the machine to his hand.
Then there was a buzz, and the world was white.
Tim’s vision was blurred. The world looked hazy, as though he had just woken up from a deep sleep. As he sat up, he noticed a dark spot on his hand. It looked like a burn. He felt something on his leg as well. Pulling up his shorts, he saw a bruise. He felt around his head and also found a bump. But his mind raced. He felt his forehead, and came up with something. He felt like he was just in a lot of chaos. But he remembered one word: escape. Tim gasped.
Something was different. He knew this place. He looked to the potted plant. He had a sudden urge to search it. He found something oddly familiar. 12 rulers; but without looking at them, he knew that one had only 11 inches. He felt his arm and, without even looking at it, knew he would find a tattoo with the codes 3, 5 and 8. He went to the old laundry chute. He knew there was a box with a key inside. How did he know all this?
“I...” he trailed off, thinking the question in his mind: “Where am I?”
He answered it.
Dutch Haror, Alaska
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