Orderly Chaos
By: Omar Imam
Tags: Fiction, Series, Dreams, Orderly Chaos

“The Protagonist”

“THIS IS A NICE A** NEIGHBORHOOD.” What? It was! Huge yards with beautiful sculptures, perfectly tended lawns, fenced-in properties (of course), and each house had its own charm. I pulled up to the address that was listed on the letter. The house was ornate. Nicer than all the other properties in the neighborhood. It looked like it took up two lots.

I was lucky it was Fall, I had a light jacket on. I put my new handgun into the pocket and walked up to the gate. “How the f$%^ do I get in..?” There was a small speaker box with a button on it. I pressed it and the sound of the most terrible static played through the speaker before dissipating. A voice came on the intercom “Name?” What the hell was I supposed to say? The letter had just referred to me as “G.”! Almost on instinct I blurted out “This is Greedom.” GREEDOM?! There are literally hundreds of, you know, ACTUAL names I could have chosen to say, and of all things I chose GREEDOM?!

“One moment please,” the voice said. I froze. Was I about to get shot? Eaten by dogs? Was a trap door going to open up under me, trapping me in some sort of pit to rot for the rest of eternity? No, actually, the gate opened. “Wraith will see you in Parlor II. Enter the house, make a left, when you hit the end of the hall, make a right, second door on the left.” “Are you kidding me right now? That actually worked? Ok, I’m not gonna question anything,” I thought to myself. Just go with the flow, smooth like whipped butter on a cinnamon bun… or something like that.

Did I hear her right? “What the f$%^ kind of name is Wraith?” Well… I did just proclaim myself to be someone named “Greedom”, so maybe I shouldn’t judge people’s names. I entered the house. Absolutely stunning. It was clean and ornate, just like the outside. There was a sculpture of a hideous face upon entering that caught my eye. Before turning down the hall on the left, I took a closer look. There were seven divots around the edge of the face, one had a red jewel inside of it, the rest were empty. The face was the most grotesque thing I had ever seen in my life, it looked like pain, angst, terror and pleasure all at the same time. I hoped I wouldn’t be murdered, wrapped in dough and eaten by whoever this “Wraith” guy was.

I followed the instructions given to me by the intercom person, going through the labyrinth of a house at a quick pace. There was something that made me extremely nervous about the house, besides the hideous painting at the entrance. I wanted to get this over with. I found myself in front of a red door. Blood red. Crimson, if you will. Just like the plush carpeting underneath my feet. The doorknob was black, much like a cast iron skillet. Fear overcame me and my vision got fuzzy. “JUST GO!” I turned the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped inside of the chamber-like room.

— — — — —

This story came to me one day while I took a nap. The dream barely made sense to me while it was happening, but everything I saw and felt is described above. I began writing it out in 2020, on Facebook, as status updates. Then I realized that I should probably do the story some justice and put it out there for whoever might possibly see it to see, and not confine it to my Facebook friends list. It’s a series, and I can vividly imagine the characters and the setting in my head. I’ve decided to start publishing the parts of the story I have so far on here. I don’t know if anyone will read it, but at least I can say I put it out there. Hope never dies.

Here is Chapter 5

Here is Chapter 7

©2021, Omar Imam. All rights reserved.