Jester ⛓️

[For the sake of clarification this is Pomni’s (“[REDACTEDS]”) POV]

The merciless end of daylight bids a farewell as reddening orange and gold devours at the blue, hungry and fading. It’s the kind of evening that’s meant to be shared with welcoming company and peaceful conversations. Which only lends a sharper edge of cruelty to the silence that fills the car.  

[REDACTED] sits nervously in the driver’s seat of her old, rusted-up sedan. The engine hums idly, sending small vibrations throughout the vehicle. The parking lot in which she resides has long since been abandoned. The surface of the asphalt surrendering to time’s relentless pull. Cracks spider-web across, weaving patterns that nature has begun to reclaim. 

Beyond lays the decrepit state of the CNA building. A monolith of concrete and glass that once was bustling with innovation, now reduced to a hollow shell wearing the bones of what it used to be. The weight of time resting heavy by just a mere glance. 

[REDACTED]’s pale fingers tighten around the phone in her lap, her thumbs flicking over the screen restlessly. A nervous tic she never managed to shake. Hoping that maybe new text bubbling would appear and you would say plans had change and you’ll be on your way soon.

[Name]: Text Message: sorry [REDACTED], I won’t be able to make it, some unexpected plans came up :((

The message sits there exactly as it has for the last fifty-seven minutes. 

A deep sigh escapes her lips, mingling with the hushness. She lets her head tip back against the headrest, that familiar pang of disappointment settling deep in her chest. She isn’t the type to blame others - it simply isn’t in her nature. You have your reasons, and she understands better than most that life has a way of complicating even the simplest of things. She refuses to ask more of people than what they are already willing to give. 

But it still stings anyway, in that small quiet way things do when you’ve been looking forward to something. 

She also knows exactly where this feeling is coming from. It had been a few weeks ago, just a passing comment really, something you wouldn’t think twice about. You had mentioned the CNA building offhandedly, remarking your curiosity with your relative who had worked there previously. Your [eye color] eyes lite up with genuine fascination, practically gleaming. It was so oddly captivating that [REDACTED] held onto that little moment. 

Which is why she is here in the first place, eager to surprise you with this little adventure.

You aren’t exactly friends (though [REDACTED] very much wants to be closer to you…). “Friend” is a loose term between you two, more like co-workers who occasionally let the workday bleed into after hour hang-outs. In a world where sincere connection is finding a piece of hay in a stack of needles, you are the closest thing she has to one. You’re different; not in a dramatic sort-of-way, but in the way of someone who sees her for her. 

Making friends has never come easy to [REDACTED]; deeper relationships even less so. She retreats behind her walls, unsure on how to bridge the gaps and be in line with the rest of the world. Nevertheless, she is grateful for the time you have given her despite the hollow feeling in her stomach. 

Steadying herself, she shifts her focus to the towering structure ahead. Thinking it would be a good idea to have a brief look inside, find the best parts to explore and make a mental map. 

The windows were coated in years of grime and city soot, the dying light catching the splotches at just the right angle to transform them into vague outlines that looked like eyes. Watching her from across the parking lot with the attention of something that has been waiting a very long time and had no particular objection to waiting a little longer. 

Trypophobics would hate that… she thinks as she feels her own skin crawl. 

She reaches into her passenger side glove box and pulls out her trusty camcorder. Aiming to capture whatever eerie beauty or hidden secrets that awaits on the inside. She steps out of her car, the shadows of the building stretching out to meet her; swallowing her as she approaches the double doors. 

This structure is the most intimidating giant she has ever dared to face.

[REDACTED] allows herself one final, lingering glance back at the skyline. The last thin strip of orange still burning, clinging to the edge with the same stubborn determination she was trying to lend to herself. Letting the breeze carry itself through her dark hair as she inhales the subtle scents of autumn. She places her hand on the pitted handle, feeling the rough and uneven surface, she pulls it open. 

Fifteen minutes in and the light outside shifts from the warm, orange glow to light hues of indigo. Shadows lengthening and pooling in every corner and creeping along the carpeted floor. [REDACTED] knows she needs to wrap this up soon. The camcorder’s night vision is decent, but she’s not enthusiastic to be stuck navigating in the darkness. 

She notices how uncannily similar this area is to her own workplace, faint recognition sends a small shiver down her spine. Cubicles lined up in neat rows, creating the same maze-like pathway she walks through every Monday through Friday. The only difference is the outdated equipment scattering across every desk, the bulky CRT models covered in a thin layer of gray dust. Their matching keyboards yellowed with age, and the phones look like relics from another era. 

It feels like stepping back in time to a version of her work-life frozen long ago, preserved like an insect in amber. Despite that, what strikes her most is how pristine everything is… Left untouched and undisturbed by the outside world. Personal photos smiling into the empty air, staring at what once was. As if everyone stood up one day and simply never returned, leaving a part of their lives suspended in corporate limbo. 

[REDACTED] suddenly stops - hearing a sound that makes her freeze mid-step. It’s distorted by distance, faint, but unmistakable. 

Circus music? 

She exhales slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. It’s probably nothing to worry about, she tells herself; a sad, halfhearted attempt to soothe her nerves. Homeless people occupying spaces like these aren’t unheard of. She’s encountered them before while exploring other structures similar to this one (though not nearly as big). They sometimes have portable radios or phones that play music to break through the oppressive silence. She finds it best not to disrupt them and decides to make her way out. 

However, her heart lurches into her throat, blood turning into ice. 

Footsteps. 

Hurried ones, heading towards her direction. 

Without thinking she ducks behind the nearest cubicle, crouching low and pressing her back against the partition. The footsteps grow closer, accompanied by the slight rustle of fabric. She sees a silhouette moving into view, backlit by the fading purple glow from a nearby window. The figure steps closer, passing through a ray of the dying light.

[REDACTED]’s breath catches; shock and confusion tangle together in her chest. 

“[Name]?!” 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You have been wandering aimlessly throughout this desolate building for what feels like hours. You shouldn’t be here, of all places, and you know that. Shame ruminating within your soul, weighing down your shoulders as you think back to your cancellation. You needed time to breathe, but that didn’t make it any less difficult. 

You should be home, updating your resume, sending out applications, doing all the responsible things someone who just got fired is suppose to do. However, your mind keeps compulsively drifting back to this place. Since you have nothing but time on your hands now’s a good time as any. 

But that’s not the whole truth, and you know it. 

You ghost down the aisle, walking cautiously, as if you’re moseily making your way through church pews to confess your deepest sins. The lingering memories of what once was clinging to the stale air, refusing to give way. It seizes, resisting change and keeping the skeletons of secrecy dead and buried. 

You miss him, you’ve been missing him. How long were you going to mourn? Your grief distended long before his passing, and now with his recent departure, you are only left with bereavement.

What were you looking for? Answers? Understanding? Some clue as to what happened here that changed him so fundamentally? You don’t even know what you are looking for. Maybe you just need to be close to him again, walk where he walked to gain an ounce of insight in this place that hollowed him out and stripped him of the man he used to be. 

The shadows gorge themselves on the dying light, their glutinous eating consumes the floor and corners in the structure. You’re so lost in the memories of your Uncle that the soften melody of familiar music reaches your ears that you don’t process. You subconsciously hum along, almost as if you were singing with the ghosts of the past. A fleeting moment that blooms warmth in your chest, perhaps seeking closure is what you need...

Why is it familiar, [Name]? 

Your pupils dilate as you take pause, that tune shouldn’t be here. Where is it coming from? For a moment, you pray you’re imagining it. Pleading that the grief and bleak atmosphere of this place caught up to you, manifesting themselves as auditory hallucinations. The music persists; however, that manic up and down theme continuing its cheerful assault on the silence.  

You take a step forward, then another, each movement brings the sound sharper into focus. Your heart is pounding, swelling against the beat of the rhythmic repetition. It consumes you, absorbing all other thoughts and rationality as you intently fall in line toward the direction of where it’s coming from. You have to know--you need to know what happened--

“[Name]?!” 

You scream by pure instinct, your body reacting before your mind has time to catch up. You pivot harshly, almost losing balance as your heart hammers against your ribs threatening to escape. There stood a familiar figure, large brown eyes, jet-black hair and short yet anxious demeanor. 

“[Redacted]?” You question, pressing a palm flat against your chest, trying to manually steady the rhythm of your heart.

“I--,” she starts, stepping into view, “Who are--ahem. You… uh… um, hi!” She clumsily fumbles, fingers fidgeting while an awkward grin graces her soft features. 

“Hi,” you breathe, straining a smile as your furrowing brows display your apprehension. What was she doing here? Your mind blitz’s through the fragmented wreckage of the last few hours, desperately trying to rationalize the timing. Your face falters as you remember the surprise she wanted to show you. The realization landing like a fist to the sternum, she must despise you now…

“What, uh... what changed?” the uncertainty laced within her tone makes you flinch slightly, “I got your text. You said you couldn't make it. Not that I’m... you know, complaining! I’m glad! I just... I’d already kind of braced myself for you not being here,”

“Oh, right,” clearing your throat to bury the tremor threatening to crack through your voice. Your chest feels like someone poured concrete into it: your job, your uncle. God, you were nowhere near ready to have this conversation, "The, uh... the stuff didn't take as long as I expected. It wrapped up early, so I figured I'd track you down and join the party!" Maybe she won't realize I'm not supposed to be here... she didn't even give me directions.

“Early? Really?” She lets out a breathy, relieved laugh, her fingers finally ceasing their jittery fiddling, “I mean, exploring this place alone was starting to get a little... much. I’m really glad you’re here,”

She steps a little closer, the narrow distance between you shrinking. The way she looks at you, open and hopeful, like you are the one good thing that showed up today, makes the guilt claw at the inside of your chest with savage, relentless fingers. You swallow it down, harshly, until it sits like a stone at the base of your throat.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t just let you have all the fun yourself! Since I couldn't help explore, how about I make it up to you? With dinner? My treat!"

“Like... a proper dinner? Like a--uh, I’d love that!”

That uncomfortable feeling of copper burns at your tongue, the vile taste of a lie coming forth, “Go on and head to the car. I’ll be right behind you. I think my keys tumbled out of my pocket back by that last pillar. I just want to grab them so I don’t have to come back and hunt for them in the dark tomorrow,”

“Oh! Do you want help looking?”

“No, no,” you wave her off, already backing into the shadows of the corridor, “I know exactly where I was standing. It’ll just take a second!” 

She hesitates for a heartbeat, her large eyes searching yours in the bruising twilight, “Okay… but don’t take too long, I heard some music and think we might be disturbing some homeless people,”

“I won’t, I promise,” So I wasn’t imagining it…

“I’ll just… look up some places while I wait,” the words trailing off with just the faintest edge of uncertainty as she slowly retreats toward the direction of the exit. You watch until she vanishes behind the skeletal rows of cubicles, your face falls, unmasking the true feelings hidden underneath. 

The air was thick with unspoken apologies and the hefty silence of your own making, a silence that screams louder than any confession ever could. An abrupt twinge of regret dwells in your chest, the underlying current of guilt gnawing itself through your heavy heart.

Asking her out to dinner to make yourself feel better? Gross. 

You scowl into the vacant air that rests at your feet; wanting, wishing, to be anywhere else instead of where you are now. 

That’s when you hear it once more. 

Your stomach plummets, twisting itself into tight knots that make you feel nauseous. You gulp dryly, throat clicking audibly, the sound embarrassingly loud to your own ears. Trembles run through your whole body in slow, rolling waves you can't suppress no matter how hard you will them to stop.

It's closer than what you remember, just beyond the corner where [REDACTED] had vanished, drowned by the obscurity of the night that is vastly approaching. Distressingly slow you make your way toward the cheerfully haunting melody, the corner drawing near with each reluctant step. 

You round the bend, peering cautiously, frown deepening as the source of the tune finally comes into view. You scan the surrounding area to see if there were any signs of someone else being there, but to no avail. You fixate your attention to see a computer that looks absolutely caked in filth. Beside it laid what looks like a VR headset, not a Meta Quest but perhaps a knock-off of some sort?  

You sigh as you walk forward closing the gap to get a better look, the music clearly coming from the headset, the lenses glowing brightly with faint yellows, reds, and blues. Uneasiness settles in your gut as you reach out to touch it, the moment your finger tips graze the surface static shoots through them, not enough for you to jolt back but enough for you to notice. 

You inspect it, eyebrows furrowing, how in the hell… curiosity getting the better of you…

You put it on.

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