Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
This one was eerily serene, a vast chamber with smooth, tiled walls and a lazy river winding through it. The water reflected the soft, ambient light, casting an almost tranquil glow across the room.
"So, I'm not really feeling this as a museum," Dion commented, his attempt at humor doing little to ease the foreboding feeling in my chest.
"It's definitely more of a... surreal art installation, maybe," Brody replied, his tone carrying a mix of sarcasm as we took in the strange, almost calming scene.
“Or a really messed up dream,” Lana mumbled under her breath.
Ciaran glanced back at us; his expression unreadable. It wasn’t making me feel any better that the guys had never been here before. It was a to-be-discovered experience for all of us. We continued past the strange, winding pool, its gentle ripples lapping against the curved walls.
The faint sound of someone crying reached our ears—a haunting, hollow echo that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
“Are other people here?” Hayven asked.
“There isn’t supposed to be—that includes us—but they seemed to know we were coming,” Brody replied.
Did that imply someone close to us switched sides? We pressed on, each step echoing against the tiled walls. Eventually, we found another door, its surface smooth and unmarked. Maverick pushed it open and stepped through, leading us into a space that made my stomach drop. The room was expansive yet confining, with low ceilings and a labyrinthine network of walls that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. The floors were covered in a sickly yellow carpet that muffled our footsteps, and the walls were adorned with faded, outdated wallpaper.
It was by far the most rundown place I’d seen within the Playground—purposely done. that only added to the unsettling atmosphere. The space was reminiscent of a dream—or more accurately, a nightmare—where the environment constantly shifted, and reality felt just out of reach. As soon as we were all inside, there was a loud click, and the door behind us locked. Before any of us could react, a voice crackled through unseen speakers.
It wasn’t Kinks.
Lana’s voice rose above it, laced with confusion. “Who is this?”
The person was female, her tone smooth, and cheerful, but she couldn’t top the original. I didn’t think it was a good sign Kinks had been replaced this quickly. I worried for her. I wanted to ask what this meant, but the new woman speaking had all our attention for the moment.
“Welcome, my dear guests. It’s so nice to see you’ve arrived.
This lovely attraction is new to the Devils’ Playground.
Here’s how it works: you have fifteen minutes to find a spout. Should you fail, well, let’s just say you’ll be all washed out.
Our masked friends will be joining you soon.
Be careful, though—the layout is always changing, and one wrong step might just see you melted.
Good luck and may the worthiest survive.
As our most beloved players, something extra special awaits on the other side!”
Mel’s eyes narrowed, a flash of recognition crossing her face. “Her voice... it sounds familiar.”
Suddenly, another voice echoed from somewhere unseen. “It’s their ex.”
Ky’s grip tightened around me, even though there was no one we could see.
His eyes slowly scanned the expansive room, searching for the source of the voice.
“Jess?” Charon’s called out, a rare strain of tension in his usually composed demeanor.
“As in, Jessica?” Lana checked for confirmation.
A brittle laugh responded. “So you haven’t forgotten me then?” She sounded…weak.
“Where are you?” Maverick questioned.
“I’ve been—please stop crying it’s driving me insane,” she stressed to whoever was with her. “We’re behind a damn wall. Stuck. They dumped us in here.”
“Days,” another voice chimed in, sounding a tad more upbeat.
“Two days,” Jessica, if that was her name, clarified with evident exhaustion. “If you wouldn’t have shown up…” she trailed off and sighed as someone began to cry harder.
Lana reached back and adjusted her ponytail. “What the fuck is going on? Who told them this is where we were coming?”
“She said ‘their ex,’” Mel clarified. “Who is that?”
There was a brief, uneasy silence before Brody broke it. “Not my ex,” he made clear, almost apologetically. “Just theirs.”
“Is that plural?” I processed that and then looked up at Ky. “You all shared a girlfriend?”
The lights suddenly dimmed, casting long shadows across the walls. Dion, ever the strategist, had already been scanning the room, trying to map out what we needed to do. “There are square outlines in the upper part of some walls,” he began, his voice measured and calm. “Those could be the spouts we’re looking for. We need to—”
The unsettling notes of “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider,” slowed down to a crawl and distorted, filling the air, cutting him off mid-sentence. The song, twisted and warped, echoed through the room, its sinister melody making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
A robotic voice, devoid of any emotion, suddenly announced, "Fifteen minutes. The game has commenced."