It just doesn't matter...

It is a cool dark night. You are standing on a balcony high on top of a building.

The moon is blocked by the building itself and there are no stars about. Not quite a breeze around but a wintery chill is around you

It is not quite cold or uncomfortable. It feels crisp and despite the late hour, you feel quite wakeful.

Why are you here? You do not know.

Where are you? What is this building? What is this city?

You do not know.

How did you get where you are? Why are you there?

It does not matter.

It is like you just started your life from that point.

As if you are dreaming

That doesn't make sense... but it really doesn't matter.

It just... is.

What were you doing before? Who are you? It does not matter.

All you know, all you feel is a freshness out on that balcony.

Some dark weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

An unknown shadow no longer covers your heart.

What was this previous foreboding? You do not know.

It just was. But that's the point, it WAS. It isn't any longer.

You feel alive. You feel fresh. You feel new.

You feel like you want to run, run out into the night and shout out your happiness to the world

You decide to do just that.

Where are you? You are in a balcony on a tall building

What is this building? Which city are you in?

It does not matter

You are happy. You are alive. You want to run.

You turn around to go down the stairs. There is no elevator

As you come into the stairwell, you notice a bottle of whiskey.

Its dark content fill 2/3 of the bottle

It is perched quite precariously on the edge of the stairway, just below the railing bars.

The slightest of nudges would send it crashing below.

The world has been sterile for now. There is just the night, there are no stars. There is the moon but you cannot see it.

There is just the cold and your feeling of being alive

Is there anyone else in this world?

What is this world?

You do not know.

You do not care.

It does not matter.

Until you see that bottle of whiskey.

It makes you wonder.

Do you really want to be thinking right now? Think about what?

What is it that you felt before this happiness?

Does it matter? It does not.

But it makes you think. And thinking makes your heart beat faster

and it makes you a little uncomfortable.

Then you hear it.

You hear the long drawn out moan

It is unnerving

Not high pitched. Quite low

But long and as if there is some suffering which cannot be put in words

Your heart quickens, you look up

Up?

Weren;t you at the tallest part of the building?

Where is up?

What is up?

It does not matter

Then you see him

He looks disheveled. As if rags are tied all over his body in lieu of clothing

At least he's covered but that seems to make you more perturbed.

He is obviously drunk.

But you do not smell it on him.

Why not?

Does it matter?

Your mind just says one thing

run

RUN!

one command

one mind

two feelings

Life

and terror

RUN!!

so you run

You run down the stairwell, taking three steps at a time.

You hear the drunkard above. He reaches his goal. he gets his whiskey.

He quenches his thirst.

Yet you still run. The feeling of terror is creeping on

Why? The drunkard is not after you!

You do not know...

You run

and then you see him

He's coming up the stairs

A very ordinary looking fellow.

Seems like a nursing intern. he is dressed in a nurse's scrubs.

It is late... he is rubbing his eyes

Perhaps he's off a late shift.

Terror

RUN!

But you collide into him.

Caught on the wrong foot and out of breath, you take a moment to recover.

He's quicker

What's the matter? -- He can speak. He asks

Nothing's the matter

Well... there's this guy upstairs

Can you hear him?

He's hurt...badly

a pool of blood.

I don't have a phone. Do you?

You lie.

Why?

You dont quite know.

Terror. Run!

No I don't. He replies. He is real.

Is he?

But there is a bank of phones in the basement

Why the basement?

But it seems safe enough... any place but here.

You shout thanks and run down.
You hope your story was enough. You hope the moans are enough.
You hope he goes to check on the moaning.
So you lied. (Why did you lie? It doesn't matter) By the time he figures out the lie, you'll be out.
Running.
Free.
As you round the stairwell, you see him following you.
No time for questions.
No time to arouse suspicions.
There is a leer on his face. You don't like it.
You just...run!
You get to the basement.
Enclosed. The door is... down the passage way. Bright lights. No windows.
Phones!
You dial.
A voice: 9-1-1. What is your emergency?
Listen, I'm alone in this basement and there's a man after me.
Surprise flickers across his face. Then...annoyance.
There is no protest. Your fears...were not unfounded.
He's followed me down into the basement and then there's this person upstairs.
Bloodied. Dying.
You lie again, why?
Uncertainty flickers on the face.
The voice: Is this person armed? Do you see a weapon?
Is he armed?
IS HE?
Can you even remember the face enough? The only thing you notice is the fleeting nature of expressions. You don't like those expressions. Not quite a remarkable face.
Armed? No he doesn't seem to be armed.
A gamble... this entire thing a gamble.
A dream. Questions!
Where are you? Who is this? Who are you?
You don't know. It doesn't really matter.
Right now.. just terror and survival. Two things matter.
Retreat.
He has gone away.
The gamble worked.
?
Relief.
You turn around, trembling in relief. Half sobbing.
He is gone.
Listen - he's gone. It doesn't matter. There's no problem.
The voice: Are you sure? What is your location? I will send a unit to help you.
No really. It doesn't matter. It's all OK.
Fire alarm!
Fire alarm?
SPLAT!! goes the axe as it smashes through your head.

The voice on the trailing phone cord: Are you there? What is your location? Hello? Are you OK? Hello?

It just... doesn't matter....