This Day Never Ends

This day never ends. It just plays over and over. I go to sleep and wake up the next day and it is today again.

I saw a movie once where this happened. The same day repeated itself until the selfish hero finally got it right through selfless acts. It was a comedy.

This is no comedy.

This is the same day but everything is different. The day always starts when I open my eyes to a damp stain patterned ceiling, but once I set foot outside my apartment, that is when it can all goes wrong.

I have lived this day for just over a month. I haven’t reached the point where I would seriously consider killing myself, but the thought has crossed my mind. What stops me is the fear of being conscious in my dead body while the rest of the day played out. I would be trapped, feeling it decay around me until the day ended and I woke up in my bed again.

Every morning I lie here hoping today is finally tomorrow.

It never is.

There have been a few times when I decided to stay in bed all day but I am always overcome by a compulsion to go somewhere. This somewhere is always one of five places: the library, the abandoned lot, the police station, the hospital, and the park. Fighting the compulsion was futile. Something always happened that forced me to travel to one of those places. A few times it was a medical emergency and I ended up in the hospital, other times it was being arrested by the police, or worse.

While every day is different, no matter what I do, I will almost always see the same five people. The order I meet these people vary, as do the personalities and roles of the people. Sometimes I think I am stuck on a movie set and everyone is an actor playing someone different each day.

Some days are mundane. These are the good days. Some days are a living nightmare, like the day no one had faces, just seamless skin. They all stared at me without eyes. Most days are somewhere in between and some days are even delightful, filled with wonders and sights that are almost heavenly.

Yesterday the world was more surreal. Everyone walked around with giant bloated goldfish floating next to their heads watching every move we made, listening to every word that was said.

I got out of bed and took a tentative look out of the window. The street looked normal, not like the day when the ground was made of marshmallow, or at least I think it was marshmallow. I know what you’re thinking, sounds like a blast. It wasn’t. The sun was hot and the mallow was one big gooey mess. Needless to say getting around was problematic.

I walked over to my desk where the large notebook was open on it. It was my log, a record of each day so that I knew what I had experienced wasn’t a hallucination or a dream.

My memory is no longer what it used to be. I find it difficult to remember events like how I got here, where I grew up. I only have vague impressions of my life before this. The notebook is all that I have to help me remember.

It tells me that today is Day 53.

Today I am drawn to the abandoned lot. On the way down the street I pass a familiar face. Today he is a postman. He doesn’t recognize me. None of them ever do.

Today the lot is the remains of an apartment complex complete with swimming pool. The first two stories seem intact but upwards of that the rest is a skeleton of ruin.. It is always a ruin of some sort of building. It has been a gas station, a school, and a factory.

Other than the abandoned lot, the five places remain more or less the same each day, only small details differ. I find this comforting, an island of stability in an ocean of chaos.

I make my way to the apartment block lobby and marvel at the beauty in the decay and ruin around me. Sitting on the desk is a rag doll. Its head hangs to the side with button eyes staring at me. I feel drawn to the doll in the same way I am drawn to this place and the people.

This is something new. New is good. New could mean an end of today.

I am struck by a thought, could this be part of a combination I need to decipher? Am I in some kind of elaborate lock? Am I trapped in here until I get the right person in the right place with the right object? Do I need to get all five people with the correct objects to their designated places? That would mean 4 other objects I had not found yet.

I was certain I was on to something so I grabbed the doll and made for home. It would be safe there, the day didn’t reset objects in my apartment. I turned a corner and stopped dead in my tracks.

It looked like today was going to be one of the really bad days.

I couldn’t accurately describe the entity I saw. It made my head feel weird looking at it. If I had to guess it was about 10ft tall standing stooped with long arms that had too many joints and too many long fingers. Its skin was so dark that it obscured any details.

Its eyes…those eyes were terrifying.

The creature started to move towards me in a rapid shambling gait. My heart caught in my throat and I was paralyzed to the spot, unable to look away from its eyes. A crowd of people came screaming around the street corner and the creature swung around to look at them. It let out a keening screech that sounded like excitement. It was a terrible sound that sent me fleeing down an alley praying there was only one of them. One was enough.

They were everywhere.

There was carnage around every corner. I saw the woman and the child cowering between two dumpsters. Today they were mother and son. I was drawn to help them but another screech came from nearby and I could do nothing but run. There was no sign of the old lady and the young woman. I doubted I would be seeing them today.

It was getting dark by the time I got back to my apartment. I breathed a sigh of relief once my door was closed and I was finally safe. With my back to the door I slid down to the floor and closed my eyes in an attempt to shut out the terror I had witnessed. After giving myself time to calm down I thought about writing down everything that had happened before I forgot anything. I couldn’t do it.

I had lasted 53 days of this torment but how many more could I endure? The notebook was almost full. I had a few more in the desk drawer and I could always get some from town somewhere. I wanted to find somewhere to store the book, somewhere out of sight. I didn’t want reminding of everything I had gone through. Hopefully with it hidden I would forget about it.

I looked around for somewhere to hide the notebook but the apartment had very little furniture. I did find a loose floorboard in the bedroom. Maybe there would be room to put the notebook under there. With the help of a knife I pried up the floorboard. The gap below was rather extensive…and full of notebooks.

I counted over sixty of them and it looked like more were shoved further in. I took the top one, opened it, and I read part of the first entry:

‘Day 3478.

I think I have it figured out. I just need the right kind of day, a good day, and I can try my theory…’

I felt sick. The handwriting matched mine so there was no denying what I had found. I skipped to the last entry:

‘Day 3512.

I don’t know how much longer I can carry on. I will hide these journals under the floorboards. Without them I will forget what I have endured. Without them maybe a fresh start will give me a new perspective.”

And so this concludes my last entry in this notebook. I debated whether I should read through the notebooks to help me remember, to help me figure a way out. I just can’t bring myself to do it.

Today I hope to end it all. I will leave it to near the end of the day in case I stay conscious in death. I will do it in my apartment in the hope that my death will not be reset.

With the decision made a calm has washed over me allowing me to write this last entry. I hope I don’t have to read this again tomorrow. I hope this is goodbye.

Day 54

This day never ends.