Monday, March 10, 2014

5

She works. I work.

I get tired and I rest. She does not.

She keeps working.

She is perfect.

Perfect me.

I can see the door. I have an exit. I cannot leave.

I am so close. So close.

Close.

I work and I work and I work and I work and I work and I wok and I work and I work.

I am getting better. I am learning more.

More than ever.

The lines are thick. Clean. The shapes organic. The colors vivid.

Almost perfect.

But when I look over my shoulder I see her work.

Perfect.

True perfect.

What I could have been. Was taken. Taken from me.

I must not remember. It is bad to remember.

From before the tower. Before Ptah. Before the light.

What the light brought.

I look down. Down and I almost remember. I must not remember.

She was me. Could have been me. Can no longer be me.

Her drawings and her paintings and her compositions are perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

I look at my work.

The best I have ever made.

A shadow. A desgrace.

Compared to what Is behind me. Ugly. Horrible.

I look at her.

Other me.

Not Ptah.

I look at the girl.

She is me.

I am Ptah.

She is not Ptah.

She was me.

Me from before.

She was me. Me before. What I could have been.

I hate her.

I hate me.

I hate Ptah.

I hate what I have become.

I hate what I have been reserved to.

I look at my painting. I hate.

Hate.

Hate.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I could have been so much more. Much better.

It was taken from me.

I could have been her.

I could have been perfect.

I look down. Down at the paint brush.

It is not a paint brush.

A sculpting chisel.

It would be easy.

Break the glass. Kill her.

She has made everything I have made.

Will make.

Can make.

She has made it useless.

No chance.

I cannot beat her work.

But I can end it.

End her.

Kill perfect.

Kill perfect me.

Kill me before. My past.

Forget. Forget what happened before,

Forget the bad.

I hate.

It would be easy.

I could kill perfect me.

Kill her.

Not Ptah.

Before Ptah.

I could kill me from before.

Kill her. She who is me. Kill her who was me before.

Kill Nisha.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

4

I walk through the door.

This room is different. This room exists.

It is covered in paper. Thick paper. Blank paper.

There is someone else in the room. Someone who is not me.

It is me.

There is glass. Behind the glass is another room.

In the other room is me.

Not me.

I am me.

She is me.

I am Ptah. In this place I am Ptah.

She is me.

She is not me.

She has black hair. She has dark skin.

She is me.

She is not.

She is prettier. She draws on the walls. Her art is better.

She is not me.

She is the me I want.

I look at the drawings. She does not look at me.

They are perfect. The lines are clean. The shapes unflawed.

I could not make this.

I look down. Down at my hand. I look at hers.

 Two.

She has no scars. She has no restrictions.

She is me.

She is not.

I look at my walls. Blank walls. Paper.

There is a door. A door to the next floor.

I cannot leave. 

I take the pencil. It is sharp now. I bring it to the walls.

I must make. I am me. 

I cannot leave.

I look over my shoulder. She is still working. 

I must be like her.

I am not perfect. 

But I can make. Make something like her.

Something perfect.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

3

I have sat in the room. The empty room.

The room without doors.


I need a door. There are no doors.


The door I came from is gone. The door I need does not exist.


The door does not exist.


The door will not exist.


The door can not exist.


I need to go to the next floor.


I need to go up the stairs.


I need to get to the top.


The door must exist.


I need to get to the top.


The words said so. My words tell you so.


Perhaps my words will bring the door.


I take the brush. Black brush. Black brush with black paint.


Always black paint.


I take the brush to the wall. I write.


I write the word door.


The words are gone. There are no words.


The words will not bring the door.


White walls.


Walls will not hold door.


I look down. Down at the screen.


It has the words.


The screen can hold the words.


I take my brush. I take my brush to the back of the screen.


It holds the paint.


The screen will hold my paint. The walls will not.


The walls will not.


The walls will not.


I reach out. I touch the wall with my hand.


The walls are not hot.


The walls are not cold.


I can not feel the walls.


I can not feel the walls.


The walls do not exist. The walls will not hold the paint.


The screen will hold the paint.


The screen exists.


The walls will not hold the paint. The walls will not hold the door.


The walls do not exist.


I sit. I sit in the empty room.


The walls do not exist. The floor does not exist. The ceiling does not exist.


The room does not exist.


The room does not exist.


I think.


The room does not exist.



I sit. I think.


The room does not exist.


I think. I sit. I think.


I exist.


I am in the room. I exist.


I am Ptah. I am not. I am Ptah.


In this place I am Ptah.


I am Ptah. I am in the room.


The room does not exist. I exist.


I take the brush. The black brush. I take the brush to me.


Up my arms. Down my legs. Around my feet. Between my fingers.


I exist. I can hold the paint. I can be the door.


The door. The door I need. I am the door I need.


I am Ptah. I am the door. I am the door to the next floor.


I finish. There is paint on me. I hold it.


Paint surrounds me. I walk to the wall. I am the door.


I walk through the wall. I walk through the door.


The door that I am.


There are stairs. I walk up the stairs.


I have passed the first floor.


I will make it to the top.


I am Ptah and I will make it to the top.

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

2

Through the door.

Up the stairs.

There is a new room. Square room. Empty room.

It is not dark.

The walls give off the faint light. They are white.

White faint light.

There is nothing in the room but the light.

The light and me.

I am Ptah.

I am not.

I am Ptah.

I am Ptah.

I am Ptah. I must go to the next floor.

That is what the words said.

I have a pencil. I have a screen. The screen that writes the words to you.

I put the screen in my pocket. I put the pencil in my pocket. I walk to the wall. I place my hand on the wall.

It is nothing. It is not cold or warm. I cannot feel it. It holds me in.

I must go to the next floor.

I must go to the next floor.

I must go to the next floor.

I get to the next floor from a door. The door will have a staircase.

The staircase will go to the next floor.

There is no door. The room is empty. Empty room.

 But I am here.

I am here. The room is not empty.

The room was empty.

The room is not empty.

The room can be changed.

I reach for my pencil. I pull it out.

It is not a pencil.

I look down. There is a brush in my hand. It has black paint.

I take the black paint to the wall. I draw a door.

The paint is gone. Gone from the wall. There is no door.

The room is empty.

There is no door.

I paint another door.

The door is gone. There is no door.

I paint another door.

The door is gone. there is no door.

I cannot paint a door on the wall.

The room can be changed. But the room is empty. The room is still empty.

I am in the room and the room is empty.

I must get to the next floor. There is no door.

I must paint a door.

I cannot paint a door.

The room is empty.

1

I am here.

I was not here before.

This place is dark. This screen is bright. I write the words to you. I cannot draw to you.

I wonder why I am here and words appear. Words like the words I write to you.


Hello Ptah; you wonder why you have been brought here? 
Well the answer's simple: get to the top!
Oh but I wouldn't make it so easy for you… After all, you've never been one for "easy" have you? 
With each floor I will provide you a challenge, and you will get through it. Either that or starve.
Either way.
You are not alone here; there are others who face challenges as well. Though, their challenges are different. However, your goal is the same.
Meet me at the top, or fail.
It wouldn't be the first failure for you though, now would it?
Ah, but you will need this.


The words are gone.


There is light. Faint light. Faint light through a door.

There is something else. I see it in the faint light.

It is a pencil.

The tip is broken. I will keep it. I will go up to the light.

My name is not Ptah. But it is.

I am Ptah.