The Waystation [Part 5 of 6]

Alex S. Garcia
The Junction
Published in
4 min readOct 1, 2021

Weird Fantasy / 936 words

NOTE: If you just found this, you might want to start at the beginning, or you can just read the previous episode.


I’ve tried everything I could think of, but still I remain stuck in this horrid room.

My connection to Angela is still open. I maintain it, for both our sanities. We comfort one another in our respective desperations. I refuse to give up on hope. I am so close to her now… and yet, so far.

She told me that, sometimes, a presence manifests itself in their midst. It crawls amongst them, grazing their skins as it moves, groping aimlessly. But whatever the presence is, it has no flesh, and when it reaches out to you, it penetrates your skin and you feel parts of your body wither and die as it creeps through… and then it is gone, having moved to the next person.

Again, it speaks of incorporeal beings, and I grow all the more convinced that my theory is sound.

I must escape!

There is no way here for me to measure time, but I sense that several hours have passed and I fear soon I will be summoned again by my smiling host.

As I stared at the lines I just wrote, I thought I saw them blur for a moment. Is my mind slipping? Or maybe my eyes are so tired that they are deceiving me… unless it was just my imagination playing tricks on me.

But it makes me wonder…

I remember once reading something about how our eyes are constantly lying to us. The world is not how we see it. By its very nature, our eye distorts reality, translates it in terms that our minds can comprehend. Take the vision of a fly, for instance, how it sees everything in multiple copies and in tainted colors. But, to the fly, that is reality. Who is to say whether our vision or the fly’s is more real?

There might be something here… I must think about this.


I am free!

But there is no safety here.

They could find me at any moment.

I must hurry.


Angela helped me. She kept calling my name, my full name. That gives us power here. Especially for one such as me who is not bound to them by contract.

I say ‘them,’ though I still do not comprehend their nature.

Following her voice, I came to a pit. It was vast, deep, dark, cold; and a myriad voices were pouring out from it — screeching, howling, pleading… My heart sank as I realized my sister was down there, trapped. How could I possibly free her?

Though before I free her, I should mention how I freed myself. But I don’t know that I’ll have enough time. I still fear that they will find me…


Things are quiet now, and I have found a place to write… I would have said it was safe, but can there be any such thing as safety in a place such as this?

I must hurry. There is little time left… I should finish my story before it runs out.

Sitting at the desk in my prison, I stared at the light that shone through the window. I dared not look through, for fear of what I would see.

I had tried to break out, but I had failed. And yet, it felt like I was on the right track. My notebook sat on the desk. The lines, that had seemed blurry for a moment, were now crystal clear once again.

The woman with the fake smile would soon summon me for another mind-bending session. I needed to get out before that happened.

I thought back to my attempt and tried to understand why it had failed.

If sight was illusion, and matter was illusion, then all I needed but do was to close my eyes and take a step forward. Yet, I could not… because I feared I would fall. For if all was an illusion, then would I not be stepping into nothingness?

You’ve never been afraid of the dark before, my sister said.

It was odd to hear her say that, considering where we were… where she was.

It’s not about darkness, sis. It’s about falling…

Nor have you ever been afraid of heights.

That wasn’t the point either, but I remained quiet as it dawned on me what her point was. It wasn’t about what I feared, but about fear itself.

This realization gave me strength. She was right. What did I have to lose? If I did not risk it, we would never get out.

I wondered… If I could control the illusion by making matter disappear, should I not also be able to fill that nothingness with my own creations?

Sliding the notebook into my pocket, I stood and stared at the wall for a moment. Closing my eyes, I took a step forward… and another… and another… I kept going until I knew I had walked much further than the wall. Still, I kept my eyes shut and pictured sand under my feet, with a river flowing nearby.

When I heard the water and the chirping of birds, I opened my eyes and grinned. I’d done it!

Where are you, Peter? I’m so cold…

I’m coming! Show me where you are.

It was then that she began calling my full name, so that I could follow her voice.

When I reached the pit, a knot formed in my stomach. How was I going to get her out of there?

And now I sit here, in this isolated cabin. I willed it into existence so I’d have a place to write and reflect. But I dare not linger more.


Read Part 6 here.

Text © 2021 by Alex S. Garcia.

Image by John Ioannidis from Pixabay, edited by me.



Alex S. Garcia
The Junction

I’m a bilingual writer, translator, and lyricist from France. I post free genre stories every month @ Author website: