Bus

I woke up with a jolt. I sat on a bench in a city bus. On my left side, the professor. On my right side, the journalist. The bus shook as it hit a bump in the phantom road. I got up and made my way to the front of the bus. Nothing was in the front seat. It was driving itself. I walked back to the bench and sat down. I felt immensely tired for whatever reason.

I went back to sleep.

Bridge V

The cables snapped and the concrete gave in as the crescendo of cars' horns honked and blared into one continuous noise. Cars crashed into each other and people jumped over and onto each other in an attempt to get out and the bridge lurched downwards.

The center of the bridge began to bend in place. It cracked and broke and bits and pieces of it fell off into the abyss below. Children screamed and their mothers cried and their fathers were silent. We ran to the center of the bridge. A school bus stood alone at the very center of it.

We ran into the bus and began to ferry children out of it. We tried to awaken the unmoving bus driver but he was clearly dead. We saw ourselves in the school bus mirror and we weren't us.

When we realized this fact the bridge collapsed and the school bus plunged into the abyss.

Bridge IV

The professor incessantly bothered me with his ancient shrill voice. I blocked him out and focused on the distant sounds of silence. The realm was so calming. I could lose myself in it. 

But a child screamed and I looked around, puzzled by the noise. And I swear I heard the sound of glass breaking. And... scuffling on the concrete. And these moments of collapse- 

I fell to the ground. They didn't notice. 

I got up and caught up with them.

Bridge III

The damn guide led us on without answering any of my questions.

"What's the meaning of this?" "What's the city's game?" "Why are we on a bridge right now?"

The guide ignored me. I brought this up with the journalist. He just shook his head and looked out into the distance. He walked curiously, with his head trained on the mist, without any regard for where he was walking. 

I heard a car's honk. Or at least, I thought I did. I spun around and surveyed the area behind us. 

Nothing. Another of the realm's tests, eh? Or maybe I was going crazy. Maybe I'm going crazy. Yeah, that's it. Gotta be. I'm going crazy and I don't belong here.

 I didn't belong there.

Bridge II

Before I realized I was against the railing of the bridge, looking straight down into the abyss. I stared down, without any regard for what I was actually looking at. I realized there wasn't any water down there. I realized what I was down at was impossible. I just didn't care. I was staring past all of that.

Into the creature's eyes.

I snapped out of it when the journalist tapped my shoulder.

Bridge I

We were on an abandoned suspension bridge. The cables stretched out far and wide. Mist clung around the bridge, obstructing our view. I could feel moist air pushing gently against me. 

"How did we... get here?" The journalist asked.

No one answered or responded to him. We continued our journey. Everything felt haunted. I shivered. There was this noise behind everything, shrill and high. The city was singing. It was happy, and yet forlorn. Saddened. It wanted to keep playing with us, but-

The singing stopped. We kept walking. 

Sinkhole

We fell with the concrete into a giant gaping hole. Foul heat rose up from nonexistence, and blasted us in the face. One rock pelted my left leg and I felt blood splash out and bones crack. My pants tore and I crashed against a boulder. The professor screamed. We fell with the concrete into darkness. 

I don't remember the impact. And I don't remember my leg ever healing itself. One moment, everlasting pain, and then the next, nothing but my cold breath and the foul heat and light falling upon my face from above. 

I scrambled up to my feet. Rocks and debris cluttered the area around me. I saw the professor on the other side of the piles. Then I saw the journalist beside me. They were both unharmed.

I went to the journalist first and helped him up. He complained about his back as I navigated over to the professor. Soon we were all together again and attempting to figure out a way to climb out. 

"Well, obviously there's no fucking way out. This is our sign... to give up." The professor said as he sat down upon a giant boulder. 

"I'm with him. This is ridiculous."

I shook my head.

"This is the worst place for submission. The city could keep us in here forever, you know. It's worse than hell."

They barely reacted to what I said. I sighed, and sat down beside the professor. He handed me a cigar. He offered one to the journalist too, but the journalist politely pulled out a cigarette. We smoked together, silently. 

The piles of rock underneath us began to spill into the center of the sinkhole. A hole formed, with the rocks falling into like they were being pulled in by a whirlpool. I don't remember being pulled into it, but we were.