Twilight

[Narcolepsy]

Hi guys, I'm new to the fan-fiction forum. Awhile ago I noticed the short story thread, and thought it would be a good way to do a little fun writing practice without getting myself into anything too deep. However, as I began to write, the thing started to spiral out of control, and what I have for you now is no longer short, spontaneous, or even a story. Instead, what I have here could probably be best described as pretentious crap, but I'm rather fond of it anyway. So, bearing in mind that this is my first ever attempt at fan-fiction (or fiction in general, for that matter), let me know what you think!

-Twilight- :: -Prologue-

Darkness.

It dripped from the ceiling and flooded the narrow hallway, mocking the swaying shattered light fixtures and drowning faint echoes of laughter. It seeped along the cracked walls, filling every fault, pooling in every crevice. It transcended time, unifying past with future, each moment made beautifully insignificant. Perfection…

…until a piercing crack shattered the stasis, exploding from some unknown crevice and sweeping through the hallway, reverberating off of every brick and tile. A wave of light followed, coloring the aural tumult in shades of ghostly green. In that split second, two round pieces of glass, not more than an inch in diameter, shone brilliantly – two sinister jade eyes. And then all gave way to the abyss.

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Tick… tick… tick… tick… Had that sound been there before? Were the whirring of generators and humming of hard drives simply obscured by the oppressive twilight, or had something changed?

“How long have I been here?” The words echoed through the narrow corridor, seeking life where there had been none before. As if to answer them, a faint click sounded down the hallway, followed by a dim glow. Another click, louder this time, followed. The clicks were coming faster now, one after another, progressively louder, until the floor seemed to shake with each one. The flood of twilight sizzled and was boiled away, leaving the ruins of human civilization in clear relief.

The scene that presented itself was as serene and beautiful as it was disturbing. Superimposed on a sterile palette of technology were the vestiges of the natural world; lush green moss adorned computer monitors visible through the office windows, and a variety of other exotic plants had arrived uninvited, squeezing through the cracks between the tiles on the floor and hanging suspended from crystalline stalagmites on the ceiling.

More importantly, though, a clock had conveniently placed itself across the hall from the dazed silhouette slumped against the wall, who looked up with a sense of defeated bewilderment. “9:35… Well that’s nice,” he muttered to himself as he readjusted his spectacles. Understandably frazzled, the man blinked as he struck up an impassioned dialogue with the quietly ticking clock, a conversation that quickly escalated into a wild-eyed interrogation as the clock persisted in its monotone murmurings, foolishly ignoring the unholy miracle that had led to its existence.

His eyes were fickle too; his senses had aligned himself with their surroundings, waging a futile war on his long-defeated mind. The recently reanimated lights were trying to get a better look at him – there was no question about that. Their pale green glow seemed suspect as well, but it went away after some forceful blinking. How unkind to mock the poor man.

The world itself seemed to expand and contract under the power of his omnipotent delirium. And he could make it all disappear – he smiled as the faltering of his eyelids sent it all crashing down around him, replacing the unsightly reality with a void of infinite perfection. A benevolent god indeed.

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No slumber had ever been so beautiful, nor any waking so painful, as this one. His oasis of apathy was chased away by a loud screech reverberating in some distant corridor, leaving only the white-hot sand scorching the corners of his eyes. Jolted out of his crazed stupor, he sprang to his feet, swaying a little and grabbing the wall for support. Another screech resounded through the room, submerging the man in a wave of purposeful fear.

His eyes widened as if to make room for the silent tears that began to wander hopelessly down his cheeks. They faltered no more – they had become quite overzealous in their duty, arming themselves against the encroaching threat.

He had been broadsided by a drunken reality, and the situation was laid out as clearly as the shattered glass on the pavement. This man was no demi-god. He was lost, trapped, and alone. A grand, spindly shadow stretching down the corridor mocked his fleeting omnipotence. And so he took a step forward.

He looked around blankly. Was that it? The fruits of his profound resolve left him approximately one step ahead of where he had been before. The tiles on the floor seemed to him to be a cruel reminder of the futility of his effort, arranging themselves into a sort of mocking measuring stick. He could feel the clarity slipping away…

It was those lights… those lights, armed with their sickly fluorescence, casting their pallid shadow over the corridor… those vampiric lights, draining him of what little happiness he could muster, deepening the wrinkles on his forehead and darkening the crevices under his eyes. Each step brought him further away from one and closer to another; each tile was the same as the last, each window evenly spaced, each blinking fire alarm above every third faceless door… He could close his eyes, make the sickly symmetry go away, but they held no sway over reality now - nothing could suffocate the ticking of that insolent clock… every… single… second…

He had to get out of here. Summoning all of the willpower that had not yet fled from his fragile frame, he took another step. And another. But even as victory after victory left him with a vacant smile, he couldn’t help but notice the haunting evolution of his shadow – each one of the lights had their own conception of him, painting his shadowy likeness in every conceivable form. Shady versions of himself stretched across the floor and up the surrounding walls like a rogue sundial. The clock was laughing.

His pace quickened substantially. His alter-egos matched his resolve, morphing and stretching their likenesses as fast as he could run. Any second now, they would get him. They were good, he had to give them that, but he wasn’t going to stay and chat. He had wasted enough time with the clock.

So wrapped up in an epic struggle against himself, the man failed to notice that his thundering footsteps had brought his surroundings to life. A flurry of sound waves ricocheted off of the walls striking the stalagmites with violent force. An eerie thunderstorm ensued, complete with a torrential rain of glimmering dust and searing cracks of thunder born from the marriage of foot to floor. Rays of pale light streamed through the otherworldly clouds, bathing the room in an ethereal aquatic glow. The thus transfigured waves caught the drops of dew on the gently waving fronds dotting the floor, casting every tile in shimmering silver.

All of this was a mere backdrop for the wild eyed man tearing down the hall, his tattered lab coat flailing in the stagnant wind. Rabid, bloodshot eyes darted back and forth, sniffing out any sign of his imaginary attackers. His eyes matched his tattered coat quite nicely, and his face, a ghostly white sparkling with sweat and tears, completed the outfit. He seemed hardly human at all, blending frighteningly well into his otherworldly surroundings. As he faded into the tumult, the situation was suddenly dehumanized and revealed for what it was: the essence of insanity.

It was really too bad that the wall slammed into him just as things were getting interesting.

By the way, you may notice that that I've called this little thing a "prologue." If you guys think it has potential, I'll expand on it and start to transform it into more of a proper story, clearing up some of the ambiguities. Or, if I need to go back to the drawing board, it could stand on its own. Just let me know what you think. :cheers:

 

[nebular x]

Whoa... :0 Thats good narration. I like it; its better than I could probably do!

However it might be hard to use it as a start for a story unless you've already got an idea. Good luck if your going to make a story.

 

[Sloth]

Is this in Black Mesa, or just using an ex-lab assistant?

But very good!

 

[Jintor]

*standing ovation*

 

[MTG_Maro]

Very Nice.

 

[Narcolepsy]

I've dusted off the secret folder on my hard drive, and I'm thinking about making the whole "only a prologue" thing a reality. I'm ressurecting this thread to give people a chance to give me some criticism, which could be applied to Chapter 2.

Thanks, guys, for all your comments so far, and those to come!

 

[Sloth]

just asking, can you explain how this relates to Half Life?

 

[Narcolepsy]

just asking, can you explain how this relates to Half Life?

I'm hoping Chapter 1 will make that pretty clear. Figuring out just how the scene in the prologue relates to Half-Life is really one of the keys to the story... so if I'm doing my job right, my next update will answer your question. In any case, at least be assured that it does indeed relate to Half-Life.

Sorry to be so cryptic, but remember, my principle task here is to be purveyor of pretention. :E

 

[Sloth]

yer, that's cool, i know what you mean.

Being crytic is always fun!

 

[Narcolepsy]

Wow, I had completely forgotten about this... impressive, considering it's in my signature. It's always so painful to go back and look at what you've written a year later. I hardly know what I was talking about.

Would there be any interest in me starting this back up? Maybe making some sense out of it?

 

[DeusExMachina]

Yeah man, start it up again.

 

[Darkwolf]

Hmm.... Pshychotic.

I like. Keep writing. :thumbs:

 

[Mahalis]

Definitely. I almost thought the guy was the G-Man at first - green eyes, reference to godhood - but the crazy-scientist angle is good too.