This is my entry for this months competition. It is probably pretty much finished, with perhaps a few minor alterations when I come back and look at it in a few days. Generally speaking I'm pleased with it though, and it is about as real as it gets as much of it is based on experiences I have had myself.

All comments and criticism welcome!

UPDATED VERSION!!!!

Solitude

The staircase stretched upwards into the darkness, an endless spiral of creaking wooden boards and rusted iron nails. Blackness surrounded him both above and below, smothering him with its seemingly infinite and impenetrable range. The distant floor beneath him was little more than a fading memory, long invisible, only a trace of the hell that lay there lingering in his mind. Far above he could hear the heavenly sounds of friends and family, shouts and screams of joy almost forgotten and yet so familiar. Sounds he so desperately wanted to touch and embrace to the very core of his soul.

The air around him was like treacle, thick and sticky, grasping his limbs and trying to pull him down. He continued to climb, each aching footstep harder than the last. Finally the tangled knot of muscles that once formed athletic legs caused him to stumble, one bruised, bare toe catching the corner of the gnarled timber. He stretched out into the void, feeling for a banister he knew he wouldn't find. He never did. Slowly he toppled, fighting his sluggish limbs and yet unable to prevent the inevitable. The joyous sounds from above turned to a cacophony of wails and cries as he fell away from them into the dark, reaching for them, his mouth opening to

Dan awoke, screaming, his stomach feeling as if it had leapt three stories and was now cowering somewhere in the attic. Hands shaking, he reached for the glass of water that stood shimmering in the moonlight bathing his bedside table. Carefully he brought the vessel to his lips, his sweat-laden brow dripping and contaminating the pure liquid with a salty tang. Still, it was refreshing, and he felt the quivering in his gut slowly subside from seismic earthquakes to mere shivers radiating outwards through his limbs.

The room around him was bathed in shadows. Moonlight flooded through a gash in the blind, illuminating the room with the silent night of the outside world. As his senses adjusted to the mottled darkness, and his mind recovered from the shock, he was able to pick out his scant possessions littered like so many autumn leaves on the bare floor. The tiny apartment wasn't much to look at. Naked wooden boards were strewn with clothing and papers, empty drink cans and crisp packets. In daylight the walls were painted a drab brown, but at night they were closer to black. Dashes of silver revealed patches where the paint had peeled away to show the bare plasterwork below. His bed was little more than a stained mattress and pillow tucked against one wall, springs digging painfully into the small of his back. Even the colorful bedclothes that adorned it couldn't disguise its inadequacy. The only other furniture was a large oak wardrobe towering in the far corner, knotted face glaring into the darkness, staring down on him as if it owned the room. Perhaps it did, Dan certainly didn't belong there.

What exactly was he doing here? The university placement was supposed to be an adventure, a journey into the unknown certainly, but one of excitement and exploration in this foreign land. His family had been so supportive, sending him on his way at the airport with waves and good luck messages. Dad had a look of pride written all over his wizened face. Mum was smiling, tears running down her rosy cheeks, clutching him until the very last moment, unwilling to let her boy go. Dan could still picture them so easily, so close and yet so far away. Three weeks ago now felt like a different world.

A scratching sound from the corner snapped him from his reverie. He wasn't completely alone after all, the mice were a constant reminder of just how far from home he was. Sitting up he flicked on the electric lamp that lay propped on the floor, sending his furry companions skittering away into the shadows. The neon yellow light revealed a small stack of well-thumbed color photos, edges frayed and smeared from eager and greasy fingers. Uppermost was a creased image showing a young man of average build, blond hair untidily arranged above a tanned and smiling face. A motley crew of young men and women, brought together by the identical uniforms they were sporting, surrounded him.

Unfortunately friends had not been thrust upon him so readily here. His work colleagues were cardboard cutouts, minds so defiled by tedium that conversation had long become extinct. Hands now worked by repetition and instinct alone. As days turned to weeks he felt his sluggish mind drawing further into its solitary shell, hiding from the unfamiliar people that occupied this distant land. None of these people were like him, with their peculiar accents and unusual customs. None of them understood him or shared his interests. They were strangers, all of them. Once accustomed to loneliness it only became harder to bridge these differences.

Staring at the pictures he didn't hear the shambling footsteps negotiating the staircase outside and approaching his door. He jumped as a wooden knocking reverberated through the sole entrance to his gloomy cave. This was closely followed by the cracked voice of an elderly lady, another resident of the dilapidated apartment block.

"Dear, I know you're in there, I heard you screaming not long ago. My light has blown and I can't reach to change the bulb. Care to help an old lady, there's a hot drink and company in it for you?"

Embarrassed and shaken by the disturbance Dan remained silent, feigning sleep to detract this unwelcome visitor. He'd seen her in the hallway more than once, a frail and gray individual with peculiar wrinkled features and a musty scent that lingered for hours. In his mind he'd nicknamed her 'The Mole Lady' due to her habit of peering over her narrow glasses at passers by. She'd never spoken to him before, and her accent caught him off guard, a lilting and bright chirp so unlike the ugly vision of her he had in his mind.

"If you change your mind dear mine is room 15, just up the stairs and on the left."

The footsteps receded back up the staircase, each step creaking loudly through the otherwise silent building. Dan lay silent for a few moments, making sure she was gone, his hammering heart slowly returning to its normal drumming rhythm. Why would he want to help the old bat? He didn't owe her anything Dan rationalized, nor did he fancy the idea of spending any time with her. No doubt her place would smell as bad as she did, and she'd be full of droning tales of 'the good old days'. The mice were all the company he needed. Carefully he reached for the light switch and returned to sleep.

The voices above were closer than ever. He could hear his mother calling his name, his father cheering every step. Peering upwards he strained to see them, to find their gentle features in the darkness. But all that stretched before him were more stairs, ever onwards, an endless spiral of despair. He was muttering under his breath, determined not to fall this time. Each echoing footstep brought him closer to them. But just as he felt he was going to see them around the very next corner, the rickety wooden boards gave way and

He awoke with a start, sweat once again soaking through his pajamas. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a pneumatic drill, the constant thump reverberating through his skull. Slowly he regained his bearings, his eyes growing accustomed to the gloom. He was still here. The disappointment was overwhelming. They had felt so close, just for a moment. Shutting his eyes he could almost smell his mother's perfumed embrace. Silent tears began to slip down his ashen cheeks.

Carefully Dan got out of bed and reached for his jacket. Throwing it over his sweat soaked shoulder, he carefully navigated his way around the debris on the floor, careful not to trip. There had been enough falling for one night. The mice in the corner scratched questioningly, unused to such nocturnal activity from their normally docile roommate.

Through the door and along the hall, Dan found himself at the bottom of the rickety wooden stairs. Nervously he looked up into the darkness, the sounds of an ancient TV drifting down from the room above. The tiniest flicker of a smile crossed his lips.

Slowly he began to climb.