Jotan's Stories: Confusion

This was a story I originally published under the name Jotan on tumblr back in the '10s.

You awaken in an unfamiliar room. There's not much in the way of furnishings -- the cot you're lying on, a standing lamp, and a table. You can't see if there's anything on the table from where you're lying.

"Hello?" you call, soft and unsure. You expect a nurse or doctor to scurry out of the woodwork at the behest of some machine telling them you're awake. After a few seconds with no activity, you realize this is not a hospital.

"Hello!" you call again, louder this time. Your voice echoes -- the room is sparse, and the walls have a matte gunmetal look to them. You frown, unsure.

Wracking your brain, you remember waking up, eating your cereal, and leaving for work. You left on-time for your train. You were reading an article about the election at the station. Did you ever get on the train? All the train rides you've ever taken blur together in your head; which one was yesterday, and do I remember today's?

A sudden realization rips you from your contemplation. This room has no door. How did it take you this long to realize something so simple? Panic grips you -- far from waking up in a hospital, you've woken up in a cell!

"HELLO!" you shout frantically. "Can anybody hear me? I'm in here! HELLO!"

No footsteps or machines can be heard. You scramble out of your cot and crouch down at the wall, pressing your ear against it. It's cool to the touch, and the surface feels teflon-smooth. You still can't hear anything.

You start pounding on the wall to make noise. You punch it, slap it, and kick it, all whilst screaming in a bid to attract attention from anybody. You continue doing this for five or ten minutes; it's hard to tell time.

Exhausted, you stop. Your throat is sore from shouting, and at some point you started crying. You wipe the tears from your face and turn back to the contents of the room.

There is a book on the table. You had not noticed it before. The cover is a pale leather without any title or markings. You grab the book and sit down on your cot to investigate its mysteries.

هذا هو جهاز القصة. كنت لا يجري ذكية مع جوجل ترجمة

The glyphs are unfamiliar to you. It could be Russian, or Arabic, or even Greek. You're pretty sure those characters aren't Asian, at least. You check a few more pages at random, but it's more of the same undecipherable text. Disappointed, you toss the book across the room. It makes a resounding 'thud' as it hits the floor.

How did this happen? You can't remember anybody out of the ordinary. Dejectedly, you curl up on the cot. Somebody will have to come eventually, you think to yourself. What would be the point of putting you in a cage and watching you starve?