first_chapter.txt

The White Palace
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I toiled in the gaunt stalls, the woollen fabric providing little comfort. Nails
splashed and machines whirled in the background, contending with each other.
Mounds of fabric split and crossed, creating channels of work. My knuckles bled
and swelled, and a cut on my lip stung. Shifts and orderings passed, my pink,
tired eyes barely rested. The drab workplace was a blur, the only bloom coming
from the salt of my sweat. My penance was public, historical, and climbed like a
casting shadow.

Patterns rehearsed in my mind bubbled unceasingly as I moved towards the wooden
door. \"The White Palace is built of stones and a wooden latch,\" I said under
my breath, reciting the string of words that had become my mantra.

As I walked past the symbol clustering machines, I couldn't help but think of
the improvements my lover had suggested. Boredom sliced through me as I yearned
for an escape from these monotonous machines and experiments. In moments of
innovation, like a casino gambler riding a bicycle, I felt momentarily
astonishing. I noticed the stares of my coworkers, curved and uncomfortable, as
they sensed my growing unease. Carefully following the rules, I bided my time, a
stealthy sensation stealing over me.

As the efficiency of the machines seemed to wane, I felt like a gambler watching
my hard-earned income dissipate. A cog from the machine beside me swung wildly,
and an envelope slipped from its grasp. I was both unknown and unaware of the
certainty that this moment would give birth to something pure and new within me.

An awakening, throbbing and hoarse, came bursting forth like a blazing fire
within me. The machines buzzed and mid-air screamed, creating a chaotic symphony
in the file shed. My thoughts turned to my downcast lodgings, sunken and hidden
beneath a layer of grime and neglect. I paid heed to the babbling multitude
around me, a classic scene of boredom and discontent.

I pondered the steady root of my unease as I stroked my beard. The weight of
commitment to this monotonous job stripped away any chance of winning at life.
In those smooth moments of mechanical genius, I felt thankful for the mysterious
escape it provided. The activity around me seemed to arrest my thoughts, as if
capturing a malevolent force that had just fled. With alacrity, a sudden nudge
pushed me forward as I entered the realm of privacy. Although it lacked specific
details, this primitive and milky world provided a certain solace. In the midst
of it all, I would contemplate the horrible analysis of my life thus far, like
peas trapped in a rigid frame.

As I served the remaining chicken, sobs climbed in my throat. The apparent forms
of the machines seemed to shrink inches in size, as if living creatures. It was
a slightly impressive feat, almost as if the progenitor of these machines bred
them. I embraced the toil, despite my naiveté and the mistakes that came with
it. Newborn memories sipped at my consciousness, pulling me further into the
mysterious escape provided by the machines.

***

As I bend nails and tie strings, I feel the valleys of their stares.

The landmark note loomed, whistling through the air, as I worked near the
adjoining machine. Concrete bricks surrounded me, creating a framed delusion of
purpose in this dreary place. A monument of J's exercised ideas stood as a
testament to our works. The lighthouse-like column sparkled against the
blackened sunset.

Stacks of sliced fabric rushes accumulated, evidence of a year's worth of ruined
materials. Posters around the factory instructed staff on how to properly meet
the demands of their activity. All workers, their foreheads glistening with
sweat, were neatly dressed in matching brown uniforms, as if we were all part of
some dream-world assembly line.

Inside, the din constantly repeats, tying loud knots in my thoughts.

I had developed nervous movements, a growing number of trepidation. I busily
figured out how the saucer of dye holds. I wondered if the clustering of
fantastic machines was beautifully crafted by an artist. In a leisurely
entanglement, the concierge walked along a path. The shrubbery beckoned me as
the walled sunlight and breeze surrounded. I stumbled upon a classic shelf in
the library, steeled against chaos. As harm bared itself before me, I was
tearing at my flesh, attempting to break free.

Slotted strokes tapped skilful keys. Expectantly, necks surveyed earlier,
believing. Flanking walls around the campus, gushing fountains reclined. A
subtle suggestion of terror remained, oblivious to the trash. Flowing gaudy
curtains shut out the boiling sun, as the oppressive atmosphere still existed.
Eventually, I suffered through curious tasks I had invented to carry on.
Watering strong plants, tending to litter, and basking in rare sunshine.
Resuming our drinks, elegant orders kept turning.

***

Squeezing through the thronged crowds hadn't prepared me for the vast expanse of
the White Palace. The cast of the sheltering glossy walls provided a flickering
glare, adding an eerie atmosphere. My illusion of discovery was destroyed as I
continued to explore. Destroying the channels of mystery, I clung to the idea of
removing myself from the map of the White Palace. Rejoicing in the celebration
of finding the sideways shelf, I felt a genuine connection to this place. I
couldn't help but think about the role I played in the countless succeeding
generations recorded within these walls.

As I perceived the tremendous basin, I felt united in my pursuit. A murky
creation was growing, like a baby named from the depths.

As I walked through the grocery store, I ducked to avoid the construct of
shrieking children. The porcelain tiles were littered with cream, butter, and
pans. I quickly grabbed a cream cheese sandwich, ate it in haste, and creaked my
way out, feeling utterly overwhelmed by the chaotic atmosphere.

As I continued on, I noticed the sound of properly arranged rhythms echoing from
a primitive instrument, reminiscent of a cat's purring. \"Is that a meow, or is
it hissing?\" I wondered aloud, my curiosity piqued by the feline-like noise.
The walls around me, adorned with classic art, gave off a disturbingly eerie
vibe. \"I shouldn't be entering,\" I whispered to myself, my courage faltering.
My footsteps echoed through the halls, each step bringing me closer to an
unknown decision and fate.

***

Tomorrow, I planned to spend most of the day in my small apartment, working on
tidying up my bedroom. I remembered Julie mentioning how she locked a tilted
shelf she had constructed for me. It was time to replace it, discarding the old
one that towered above like a once graceful giant. The walls were embossed with
golden patterns, which drew my eyes deeper into the room and tore at my
imagination. An oddly inscrutable sense of alertness washed over me, as if
something or someone was laying in wait, having studied my every move.

The gradual ascent of the sun, resembling a bird taking flight, marked the
beginning of a new day. Instead of dreaming, I found myself reading late into
the night, glancing at the golden patterns on the walls that held my attention.
The growing pile of dishes and records on the floor served as a constant
reminder of the need to tidy up, as well as my pants and covers thrown over the
tilted shelf. Despite my shallow attempts at slumber, I spent the night tossing
and turning, dressing and undressing, exhausted from the uncertainty of my
future in the White Palace.

As the drafts blackened, the clock screeched.

\"Wednesday's jobs list, wheel material - here's yours,\" I said, handing over
the parchment to my fellow worker. As we stood in the dimly lit hallway, I
couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine, the atmosphere of the White
Palace ever-present. The cold stone walls seemed to whisper secrets as the draft
from the windows brushed past us. "Thanks,\" my coworker replied, examining
the list with a furrowed brow. \"Looks like we've got a lot of work ahead of
us.\" The weight of our responsibilities within the palace weighed heavily on
our shoulders, but we knew we had no choice but to carry on. The creaking of
doors and the echoing footsteps in the distance filled the air, reminding us
that we were not alone in this vast, mysterious place. As we went about our
tasks, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching us, waiting for
the perfect moment to strike. The unease I felt was palpable, as though the very
shadows themselves were reaching out to grab hold of me. I tried to push these
thoughts away and focus on the tasks at hand, but the White Palace had a way of
seeping into your very soul. Despite the eerie atmosphere, Wednesday was just
another day in the life of a palace worker, filled with the monotony of routine
tasks. The work was hard, but we all knew that it was necessary to maintain the
delicate balance of power within the White Palace's walls.

As I rushed through the wood-panelled hallway, a burst of laughter followed me.
The sound hissed like a cold shower on a mourning student during their morning
walk.

***

I could smell the aroma of eggs, coffee, and smoked tin rolls filling the air as
I entered the dimly lit kitchen.

As I approached Julie, I noticed her masking a mildly shattered badge that she
wore. The aroma of pepper, salt, beef, and chopped parsley filled the air, as
the kitchen staff prepared the meal. Cutlery and classic cups glinted in the dim
light, their reflections flashing across the walls. Julie, sensing my inward
unease, tried to act as if everything was common and that there was nothing to
fear about my arrival. In an attempt to ease the tension, I gave a quick peck on
her cheek and stretched my arms across the wooden table, leaning in to greet her
properly.

Toasted scraps of vegetables littered the fire. A pot of coffee and buttered
rolls bubbled nearby. I mixed eggs with cream in a pan, adding smoked tin for
extra flavor. The electric toaster supplied creamy buffet offerings. Life's
small bursts of joy came from revealing the beads of sweat sweeping down my
brow.

I carried the tray to the lap of my mother's children, watching as they ate.
Memories of my mother's recorded mixed emotions regularly played in my mind,
concerned for my safety. University life had been interesting, but considering
my current situation, it wasn't the most contributing choice. Deleting the
manuscript would've proved my shallow correspondence with the unknown. Back in
my pyjamas, I realized how much the routine sucked me in, as the guy at the
entrance had warned.

As the firelight flickered, blinds consumed the doors, making it difficult to
discern anything. Earlier, Julie had dropped a paper with her final thoughts on
our common task. I spent hours reviewing the pages of the mysterious volume,
each chapter filled with foreign symbols and cryptic messages.

As I adjusted my uniform, my belly partly exposed, a male visitor entered the
room.

***

As I stood by the window overlooking the countryside, I noticed the purple
columns of shadows cast by the trees. The air was thick with pollen, as tiny
insects were carried hither and thither by the gentle breeze. I observed a leaf,
its delicate surface crawling with life, and couldn't help but stand in awe of
the intricate workings of nature.

I screamed in mid-air, recognising somebody loud. The dull sound of my voice was
buried beneath a mostly fiery atmosphere. Amiss the intensity, a stirring
thought of the date picked haunted me.

I noticed the unmistakable mist that wore thousands. The citrus scent of last
night's coffee still lingered, as sleep shot away from me. Compelled to keep
walking, I stepped further, entering a foregone conclusion. Tangled in clumps,
pushing through acute numerous obstacles, I continued.

As I pondered my orange rind predicament, I noticed plants placed precisely
around the area. Stretching atop the extreme edge of the campus, the view was
flanking the White Palace. I felt a mysterious aura as everything reflected a
sense of smoothly tending and caring for the surroundings.

\"I was dreaming, violently jumbled cars.\" I said to myself, trying to make
sense of the chaotic images from my recent sleep. \"Elsewhere, science is
shutting down,\" I mumbled, thinking of the blocks and wires that seemed to
exist in my subconscious.

Realisation hit me that novels had gotten elaborate in their philosophy. I had
wrestled with mastery, pleading and pushing to implement each concept. Smoothly,
like a dove sweeping through the air, I kept my disgust at bay. Skimming through
the pages, I found my thoughts flapping like a graceful bird, milking each idea.
A blur zipped through my mind, pumping mouthfuls of haze into my thoughts. As I
exited the building's entrance, I saw groups of people chatting and awaiting
their turn to venture into the White Palace.

As I greeted the visitor, my mouth opened wide and thus, I was met with an odd
condition. Upon looking around, I realised that the wooden windows contained
scenes resembling temples. The mansion's paint seemed to change as I walked
around the grounds, gazing at the intricate details. I couldn't help but dream
of higher possibilities, standing beside a silent girl who shared my curiosity.

As I walked, I noticed a shallow passage leading south, adorned with an address
and an outdated phone.

\"No, I refuse your offer of soup,\" I said, emotions swirling as I imagined the
consequences. \"Act like the hero, rescue the fools playing this game.\"

As I left the White Palace, I found myself cowering near the stubble of a
once-grand tavern, struck by an overwhelming hunger that seemed to match the
towering height of the structure. Suddenly, the blackness of the sky above felt
as if it was peering inwards, an eerie sensation sending shivers down my spine
as I heard a faint rattling sound floating in the air.