The Drawing Board

a strange escape from a strange place via strangeness.


awakened in an empty room. walls of stone, no doors, no windows. just bare walls, unadulterated by any features save the four torches in the corners. he knows not how he got here, or where exactly here is.

he pulls a stone from a small crack in the wall. scraping it upon the surface of the wall he draws a rectangle. two thirds of the way down the rectangle he draws a small circle. he closes his eyes and grabs at the circle, turning his wrist. nothing. of course not. it was silly to think that would work. he regroups and tries something else. he scrapes the stone across the wall, drawing another rectangle in with the original is now nested. the vertices he connects with diagonal lines. next he etches a grid surrounding the artificial door. he tears off a piece of his shirt, lights it in the flame of a torch, and extinguishes it with the force of his breath. with these ashes he adds shadow to the etchings to define the detail of the doorjam and window panes created from the stone. scraping the oil off skin with a credit card he mixes it with the ashes, adding more stability to the medium. still nothing. running out of ash and oil he devises to use what's left more judiciously. he begins to etch on the floor, and before long has created a rendering of a brush, tubes of paint, and a pallete on the floor. he closes his eyes and reaches for them. success! he paints a beautiful garden the grid, which now forms a floor to ceiling window of one-foot by one-foot panes.

on the opposite wall he renders a phonograph and places a previously rendered record on it. it pops and hisses beyond his threshold of tolleerance, so he draws another one, this time with a sleeve. he removes it from the sleeve and places it on the table. ah, much better. but he decides that next time he will have to include the celophane to ensure optimum sound quality. he proceeds to create images of fine amber paneling, mirrors, gold leaf, and georgian furnishings. a crystal chandelier hangs down from the twenty foot vaulted cieling he had drawn earlier. he tries the door again. still nothing. after drawing himself a ham and cheese sandwhich to consume while thinking it over, he get's an idea. of course! why didn't he think of it before? he begins painting a grand door on the other wall. after using the toilet therin (he was about to burst by that point), he creates another, slightly less grand door on the next wall over. now it is a full room in a full hose, he need only open the door to outside, and freedom. eyes closed, he reaches for it. he puts his hand through a pane of glass. fortunately just some minor cuts. this time eyes open he grasps the door knob. it turns! but it's locked. after a hearty sigh he draws a crowbar and smashes away enough glass for him to step through. running through the garden, into the woods he follows a stream until he sees a bridge. he follows the road that the bridge is a part of until he sees a car, which he flags down with his thumb.

"get in, what happened? what can I do to help?" says the driver. he gets in and tells the driver all about his amazing experience. the driver turns and gives him a wicked grin.

he wakes up in an empty room, walls of stone, no doors, no windows. oh well, back to the drawing board.