Green Gallery
The Scream
Yixing finds himself in a green room. All the paintings that line the walls appear to be of insects or flowers of some kind or other. Yixing doesn’t like insects. Even as a child, he had always had a deep revulsion for the creatures. Spiders that crawled, bees that stung. Butterflies were even a problem for him; he hated how sometimes they would flutter in his face and disorient him. He decides that he will be methodical and take the right wing of the gallery, once again. There’s a green door at the very end. He pushes it forward.
Yixing notices that there’s another door in this next room, however, the floor appears to have been carved out. He knows he can’t make that jump, and he doesn’t want to risk falling down. It looks like it's a long way down, because all he can see is darkness. Yixing turns around and tries the left wing. He shivers as he passes the portraits of preying mantises and fleas.
Disgusting.
There’s a narrow corridor leading into what looks like yet another walkway. Yixing notices an absence of portraiture, and shrugs. Things couldn’t get any weirder. He presses himself up against the wall and edges further and further down the passage…
“!” Yixing shrieks.
He runs down the corridor, and once he reaches the other side he doubles over in pain. He looks back behind him. There are dark hands reaching out of the walls, flaying haphazardly this way and that. He realises they’re reaching for him.
“What the…?”
Yixing looks down at his rose, holding his chest. A petal has been torn off, and it’s sitting on the ground underneath one of the hands. There’s a deep gash on his chest; it seems to have ripped straight through his shirt. He’s bleeding, a lot. Yixing rips off the lower half of his shirt and wraps it tighter around himself, also ripping the sleeves of his jumper; this will have to do for a makeshift bandage, for now. There’s a door right at the other end of the hallway. Yixing twists the handle, but, as he almost expects, it’s locked.
There’s the portrait of an ant sitting on the wall, all by itself.
“Hang on…”
Yixing lifts the frame off the wall, carrying it back with him. If he’s right, it’s big enough to cover that hole from before. He looks down through the narrow passage. Not again. Yixing finds the centre point of the passage, hoping with all his brain power that the hands won’t reach him.
“Here goes nothing,” he breathes.
He breaks into a run, clutching his chest.
“AH!”
He stumbles, but he’s made it. He looks at the flower. Another petal gone.
Oh no!
Yixing examines himself, noticing a small incision on his upper arm. It’s not as big as the gush on his chest, but it’s enough to hinder his movements. He tears the other sleeve of his jumper off and wraps it tightly around his arm. He picks up the painting and walks through the other door, placing it over the gap. Surely enough, he was right. Yixing takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, crossing over the painting. He gasps.
He’s made it.
But the ant has died.
Somehow, the ant is now squashed, quite literally. Yixing was sure that once a painting was finished it remains unchanged. This is not what he expected. Yixing turns the handle of the green door on the opposite side of the room, flinching as it squeaks behind him. Like the room before it, this room is green. There’s a red statue standing to the side, and a portrait of a poisonous spider hanging on the wall. Yixing smiles, catching the glint of a green key on the floor. Yixing bends over to pick it up and places it in his pocket. This must be the key to the locked door on the other side of the green gallery.
Yixing looks up and takes a step back quickly. The red statue is about a metre closer than it was before, much to his disbelief. There's something eerie about it's lifeless eyes. Yixing backs away, making a break for the door. There’s a growl, and Yixing manages a small glance over his shoulder. His eyes widen and he almost trips over himself as he tries to make a break for it.
“!”
The statue’s moving; its legs are running a relentless pace towards Yixing. Yixing fumbles around at the door, unable to open it with his sweaty palms.
“NO!” He screams.
But, just then, the door flies open, and Yixing runs feverishly into the next room, slamming the door behind him. He presses his hand to the wall next to him, wheezing slightly. Yixing is bleeding heavily, and this much movement is not helping his predicament. He breathes in, spluttering slightly. He’s starting to feel a little light-headed…
THUD!
“!”
The statue has pushed through the door, and it’s running at him.
“OH !”
Yixing dashes across the ant portrait and flies to the next door, screaming. Once he’s got the next door open, he slams it shut again.
THUD!
Yixing sighs in relief as he hears what sounds like porcelain smashing on the hard ground. He turns the doorknob and takes a peak. The ant portrait is gone, but the frame remains. There’s a gaping hole where the canvas had once been. Yixing breathes a sigh of relief. The statue must have fallen down and smashed into tiny pieces.
Yixing gulps as he clears the narrow corridor once again, this time passing through uninjured. There’s a table next to the locked green door that Yixing had failed to notice before. He scans the tabletop, his eyes trailing over a small, blue vase. The same vase as before. Yixing dips the bottom of his rose into the vase, and feels instantly better. The petals seem to regrow back on the flower, and he himself feels the coldness of water rush over him and soothes his aching limbs. He unwraps the bloodied shirt from his chest, only to find that the gush from before has been regenerated, with new skin healing over the spot. He checks his arm and it, too, has apparently healed.
Yixing lowers himself slowly onto the tabletop, resting his head on the hard wood. He feels so run down and worn out, but this can only be a short reprieve; he doesn’t want to know what other horrors lay in store for him. After a few minutes, he fishes in his pockets for the green key. He gets up, presses it into the keyhole, and inhales slowly.
Yixing notices that there’s another door in this next room, however, the floor appears to have been carved out. He knows he can’t make that jump, and he doesn’t want to risk falling down. It looks like it's a long way down, because all he can see is darkness. Yixing turns around and tries the left wing. He shivers as he passes the portraits of preying mantises and fleas.
Disgusting.
There’s a narrow corridor leading into what looks like yet another walkway. Yixing notices an absence of portraiture, and shrugs. Things couldn’t get any weirder. He presses himself up against the wall and edges further and further down the passage…
“!” Yixing shrieks.
He runs down the corridor, and once he reaches the other side he doubles over in pain. He looks back behind him. There are dark hands reaching out of the walls, flaying haphazardly this way and that. He realises they’re reaching for him.
“What the…?”
Yixing looks down at his rose, holding his chest. A petal has been torn off, and it’s sitting on the ground underneath one of the hands. There’s a deep gash on his chest; it seems to have ripped straight through his shirt. He’s bleeding, a lot. Yixing rips off the lower half of his shirt and wraps it tighter around himself, also ripping the sleeves of his jumper; this will have to do for a makeshift bandage, for now. There’s a door right at the other end of the hallway. Yixing twists the handle, but, as he almost expects, it’s locked.
There’s the portrait of an ant sitting on the wall, all by itself.
“Hang on…”
Yixing lifts the frame off the wall, carrying it back with him. If he’s right, it’s big enough to cover that hole from before. He looks down through the narrow passage. Not again. Yixing finds the centre point of the passage, hoping with all his brain power that the hands won’t reach him.
“Here goes nothing,” he breathes.
He breaks into a run, clutching his chest.
“AH!”
He stumbles, but he’s made it. He looks at the flower. Another petal gone.
Oh no!
Yixing examines himself, noticing a small incision on his upper arm. It’s not as big as the gush on his chest, but it’s enough to hinder his movements. He tears the other sleeve of his jumper off and wraps it tightly around his arm. He picks up the painting and walks through the other door, placing it over the gap. Surely enough, he was right. Yixing takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, crossing over the painting. He gasps.
He’s made it.
But the ant has died.
Somehow, the ant is now squashed, quite literally. Yixing was sure that once a painting was finished it remains unchanged. This is not what he expected. Yixing turns the handle of the green door on the opposite side of the room, flinching as it squeaks behind him. Like the room before it, this room is green. There’s a red statue standing to the side, and a portrait of a poisonous spider hanging on the wall. Yixing smiles, catching the glint of a green key on the floor. Yixing bends over to pick it up and places it in his pocket. This must be the key to the locked door on the other side of the green gallery.
Yixing looks up and takes a step back quickly. The red statue is about a metre closer than it was before, much to his disbelief. There's something eerie about it's lifeless eyes. Yixing backs away, making a break for the door. There’s a growl, and Yixing manages a small glance over his shoulder. His eyes widen and he almost trips over himself as he tries to make a break for it.
“!”
The statue’s moving; its legs are running a relentless pace towards Yixing. Yixing fumbles around at the door, unable to open it with his sweaty palms.
“NO!” He screams.
But, just then, the door flies open, and Yixing runs feverishly into the next room, slamming the door behind him. He presses his hand to the wall next to him, wheezing slightly. Yixing is bleeding heavily, and this much movement is not helping his predicament. He breathes in, spluttering slightly. He’s starting to feel a little light-headed…
THUD!
“!”
The statue has pushed through the door, and it’s running at him.
“OH !”
Yixing dashes across the ant portrait and flies to the next door, screaming. Once he’s got the next door open, he slams it shut again.
THUD!
Yixing sighs in relief as he hears what sounds like porcelain smashing on the hard ground. He turns the doorknob and takes a peak. The ant portrait is gone, but the frame remains. There’s a gaping hole where the canvas had once been. Yixing breathes a sigh of relief. The statue must have fallen down and smashed into tiny pieces.
Yixing gulps as he clears the narrow corridor once again, this time passing through uninjured. There’s a table next to the locked green door that Yixing had failed to notice before. He scans the tabletop, his eyes trailing over a small, blue vase. The same vase as before. Yixing dips the bottom of his rose into the vase, and feels instantly better. The petals seem to regrow back on the flower, and he himself feels the coldness of water rush over him and soothes his aching limbs. He unwraps the bloodied shirt from his chest, only to find that the gush from before has been regenerated, with new skin healing over the spot. He checks his arm and it, too, has apparently healed.
Yixing lowers himself slowly onto the tabletop, resting his head on the hard wood. He feels so run down and worn out, but this can only be a short reprieve; he doesn’t want to know what other horrors lay in store for him. After a few minutes, he fishes in his pockets for the green key. He gets up, presses it into the keyhole, and inhales slowly.
The wall is shaped like a giant brown cat, and two passages lead off it to the left and the right. There’s a fish-shaped hole in the wall. Yixing takes the left path first, finding himself in a dark yellow room. There are eight paintings in display cabinets at regular intervals throughout the room, and a note on the wall.
“Play hide and seek?”
Yixing gasps as the paintings are somehow covered with red curtains. Little yellow buttons jut out of the wall just underneath each frame. He notices that the portrait of a stick man is missing. This must be what he is looking for…
Yixing steps forward, examining each curtain in turn with steady eyes. But it’s hopeless; there is absolutely nothing to give anything away.
“Maybe… this one?” Yixing mumbles to himself.
He heads down to the bottom left and presses the button in.
“AH!” he yelps.
He feels like he’s been stabbed in the leg. He looks down and surely enough, there’s blood pooling at his ankle. He’s lost one of the petals. Yixing shakes his head and tries again. It's all he can do. It seems like the only way out is to constantly move forward, to swim with the tides of the sea and hope that he doesn't get pulled under and drown.
“This one?” he whispers warily.
THUD!
Yixing whirls around, looking for the owner of the sound. But there’s no one. Instead, a pool of yellow paint sits next to the portrait. It’s been opened, and a stick figure waves its arm at him.
“No way," he breathes.
Yixing reads the paint.
“Found me, you get a prize.”
Yixing glances over the ground. A small wooden statue sits in a pool of yellow paint on the floor.
“A fish head? Oh!” Yixing exclaims excitedly.
He walks back into the other room and tries to place the fish head into the wall, but it doesn’t fit yet. Yixing sighs.
“I suppose I have to find the tail, too?”
Yixing heads across to the right wing of the gallery. It's a room filled with statues of all shapes and sizes, and the busts of famous people engraved in marble; all watching him. The lights flicker overhead and dim.
“Okay…”
Yixing steps forward and strains his eyes to look around. He can’t see well, so he uses his arm to feel around. He finds a slip of paper on the ground, and holds it close to his face.
“Materials Warehouse?” He can barely make it out.
The lights flicker back on, and one of the busts is shaking.
“What?”
It starts sliding its way towards him, and Yixing squeaks in fright. That thing is far too big, big enough to squash him if it were to fall. Yixing backs away, but the bust moves closer. He can clearly read the name of it now; Christopher Columbus. Like the man of whom it is based, this bust apparently enjoys exploring… Exploring close enough to the point where it could easily crush Yixing!
Yixing tries to move away, but he feels behind him and realises there is nothing but the cold, hard wall. He doesn’t think he’s fast enough to duck and weave underneath it, his leg is already quite battered, and he can feel blood oozing from his forehead. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but he supposes he’s spent too much time in this room; the flower is withering, and he likewise shares this fate. The bust is close to him now, about half a metre. Yixing makes his move.
“Play hide and seek?”
Yixing gasps as the paintings are somehow covered with red curtains. Little yellow buttons jut out of the wall just underneath each frame. He notices that the portrait of a stick man is missing. This must be what he is looking for…
Yixing steps forward, examining each curtain in turn with steady eyes. But it’s hopeless; there is absolutely nothing to give anything away.
“Maybe… this one?” Yixing mumbles to himself.
He heads down to the bottom left and presses the button in.
“AH!” he yelps.
He feels like he’s been stabbed in the leg. He looks down and surely enough, there’s blood pooling at his ankle. He’s lost one of the petals. Yixing shakes his head and tries again. It's all he can do. It seems like the only way out is to constantly move forward, to swim with the tides of the sea and hope that he doesn't get pulled under and drown.
“This one?” he whispers warily.
THUD!
Yixing whirls around, looking for the owner of the sound. But there’s no one. Instead, a pool of yellow paint sits next to the portrait. It’s been opened, and a stick figure waves its arm at him.
“No way," he breathes.
Yixing reads the paint.
“Found me, you get a prize.”
Yixing glances over the ground. A small wooden statue sits in a pool of yellow paint on the floor.
“A fish head? Oh!” Yixing exclaims excitedly.
He walks back into the other room and tries to place the fish head into the wall, but it doesn’t fit yet. Yixing sighs.
“I suppose I have to find the tail, too?”
Yixing heads across to the right wing of the gallery. It's a room filled with statues of all shapes and sizes, and the busts of famous people engraved in marble; all watching him. The lights flicker overhead and dim.
“Okay…”
Yixing steps forward and strains his eyes to look around. He can’t see well, so he uses his arm to feel around. He finds a slip of paper on the ground, and holds it close to his face.
“Materials Warehouse?” He can barely make it out.
The lights flicker back on, and one of the busts is shaking.
“What?”
It starts sliding its way towards him, and Yixing squeaks in fright. That thing is far too big, big enough to squash him if it were to fall. Yixing backs away, but the bust moves closer. He can clearly read the name of it now; Christopher Columbus. Like the man of whom it is based, this bust apparently enjoys exploring… Exploring close enough to the point where it could easily crush Yixing!
Yixing tries to move away, but he feels behind him and realises there is nothing but the cold, hard wall. He doesn’t think he’s fast enough to duck and weave underneath it, his leg is already quite battered, and he can feel blood oozing from his forehead. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but he supposes he’s spent too much time in this room; the flower is withering, and he likewise shares this fate. The bust is close to him now, about half a metre. Yixing makes his move.
He quickly flings himself out of the way, landing on the pointed blade of another statue. The bust falls and smashes open where he had once been. Yixing’s lost another petal to his rose. He gasps as he presses his arm to his chest, pulling it back in surprise. It’s wet with blood, and his mangled shirt is soaked in the substance. He wants to crumple to the floor and just sleep, but he doesn’t think he’ll get back up. Yixing understands that the best thing to do it to move on. He notices a glint, and he notices that in the pile of broken bust, there’s a small relic.
It’s the fish tail.
“Alright…”
Yixing pulls the fish head out of his pocket and clips the two pieces together. The lights flicker back on, and Yixing inspects himself. He needs to be more careful, or he’s not going to make it through. He slowly shifts his weight, pulling himself off of the statue. He applies as much pressure to the wound as he can, slowly trudging back the way he came. There’s a portrait on the wall that wasn’t there before. A single, flowering red rose. On closer inspection, he can lean into the picture.
Beyond the rose is a vase. Yixing laughs at his good fortune.
“He grabs his rose and pushes it through the portrait and into the vase. The familiar rush runs over him, and he gasps in contentment.
Back to normal. Yixing walks back to the giant brown cat etched on the wall. He takes the fish figure out of his pocket and places it in the small hole that’s sitting where the cat’s mouth should be. It fits. Yixing jumps as the sounds of cats mewling fills the room, and the eyes of the cat glow radiant yellow.
A wall carves itself out of seemingly nowhere.
There’s only one way to go…
It’s the fish tail.
“Alright…”
Yixing pulls the fish head out of his pocket and clips the two pieces together. The lights flicker back on, and Yixing inspects himself. He needs to be more careful, or he’s not going to make it through. He slowly shifts his weight, pulling himself off of the statue. He applies as much pressure to the wound as he can, slowly trudging back the way he came. There’s a portrait on the wall that wasn’t there before. A single, flowering red rose. On closer inspection, he can lean into the picture.
Beyond the rose is a vase. Yixing laughs at his good fortune.
“He grabs his rose and pushes it through the portrait and into the vase. The familiar rush runs over him, and he gasps in contentment.
Back to normal. Yixing walks back to the giant brown cat etched on the wall. He takes the fish figure out of his pocket and places it in the small hole that’s sitting where the cat’s mouth should be. It fits. Yixing jumps as the sounds of cats mewling fills the room, and the eyes of the cat glow radiant yellow.
A wall carves itself out of seemingly nowhere.
There’s only one way to go…
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