There were no visible architectural features to distinguish between each floor of the building apart from what looked like a large doorway in the base of the structure. Aside from that, the strange building was completely smooth on all sides. The volcanic looking shard was standing alone; the only structure on the entire block. Brad walked to the front entrance in awe. To him standing at the base and looking up made the building appear as if it rose on and on, to an infinite height. The doors in front of him were similar in that they seemed larger than was possible. Brad guessed that each door was about twenty feet tall and that they were fashioned from some sort of wood which had been painted with a thick coat of black. Upon a closer look however he realized that the doors were charred, black from flame and soot. Nailed crudely to each door was an archaic looking handle of wrought iron; twisted in form as though they were in constant agony.
Brad, inexplicably drawn to the building, took a deep breath and was about to grab one of the handles when he felt a tug at his pant leg. There, standing at about 3 and a half feet tall was a very muscular little man sporting John Lennon glasses with purple-tinted lenses and a grisly goatee that had been poorly dyed in electric blue patches. Brad swore he had not seen this man just a moment ago as he was approaching the door but did as we all do when things seem unexplainable, he reasoned. Clearly he hadn’t really been paying much attention anyway and besides, “He is pretty damn short.” Brad thought to himself.
“It is feefty dollahrs if you vant to get in vithout membersheep. You do not have membersheep.” The little man spoke in a thick eastern European accent; Brad thought he might be from Estonia or Russia as he glared at the small man, “How do you know I don’t have a membership?” The man snorted and held out his hand. “Fair enough.” Said Brad. “So then, what is this place,a bar or a brothel or what, a tiny gentleman’s club?” Brad laughed lamely at his own joke but the little man stood impassive until Brad felt awkward. “This eesn’t yuppie club for vull streets meester. Feefty dollahrs or go now vile you can steel vulk.” Said the stoic man as he continued to hold out his tiny hand in anticipation of the 50 dollars. Brad sighed heavily and went for his wallet. “Yeah yeah, welcome to America you pint-sized communist.” The man did not react at all; he simply remained still with his hand held out, staring into Brad Pitzer’s baby blue eyes from behind the impenetrable purple lenses. Brad put a fifty dollar bill into the man’s hand being very careful not to actually touch him. As soon as the bill was in his hand the small man shoved it into the pocket of his slacks and reached up, grabbing the wrought iron handle and pulling the door open for Brad without saying a word. Brad casually raised his eyebrows and walked through the tall arching doorway, into an atmosphere that he was not expecting.
As he took his first step beyond the archway the heavy door behind him slammed shut and Brad was left in total darkness. Suddenly the fact that no one knew where he was, including himself, over took his mind. Panic began to surge through his body, his heartbeat pulsed heavily in his neck and his breath became shallow and quick. Just as Brad was about to start pounding on the doors to be let out, a trail of pulsating purple light lit up in the ceiling above him and tiny LEDs lead him down a long and dark hallway. Brad swallowed hard pushing the wave of panic away as he began to strut down the hallway. “Well, don’t I look like Alice in the rabbit hole?” said Brad to no one in particular.
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