Dangerous Games

This is another that probably wont make much sense, another that needs much work. It is sort of a huge metaphorical, symbolic piece that conveys a relationship with some one close to me. Push and pull, Manipulation, break each other down, build each other up.. Its all just games for us.


He’s running. He’s running but it’s so easy for him. Through these dark, empty, high corridors he’s running through them like it’s a game. Which it is.
I’m panicking. I’m panicking but I like it. This is the most fun this building has had in a while and I edge him on while everything around me scrambles in fear. They should.
He turns a corner and just about runs up the opposite wall before he stops at an intersection. He looks up. He looks up at me. He’s panting, his chest rising and falling, but he looks at me and smiles, ‘bring it on,’ he seems to say. Turning his face away, he considers the options and turns right, deeper into the darker spaces.
I bite my lip and play with the idea of some sort of protest, some sort of resistance but everything inside of me is pushing the idea so far away. Around me still, the shadows that make up reason are frantic and nervous, they shiver and look to me for an answer. They’re begging me to see what they see, feel what they’re sure I’ll feel if I let this continue. Im immune to their cries now, my excited smile frightens them.
No, I’m watching. Let him set this place on fire, I think. They wince at my thought but I know I don’t mean it. I should fear what he’ll do, what he can do. How did he even get in here?
He runs further still, turning every now and then, and I know what he’s looking for. I won’t stop him though. Again everything that had failed to keep him out in the first place gnaws at me, begging me to stop him. I’m having too much fun. I’m too intrigued to see if he can get past everything I thought was good and strong.
Turn, run, turn, run, run, turn . . .
The corridors are darker the closer he gets. I’ve done this on purpose. No-one intentionally goes into the dark, but he’s not part of people I don’t want near this place, he knows what he’s doing.
There. He’s there. Standing in the long corridor with the simple white door at the end of it. Again he looks up at me, ‘tisk tisk.’ And I’m suddenly threatened.
He walks backwards a few steps still watching me, turns around and runs the last few steps through the door.
For awhile I just stand. Around me, they are quiet and, like me, they watch helplessly.
There’s a green light pouring out of the door way, illuminating the entire hallway. I walk through into this room I’ve so rarely used, cross my arms and lean against the back wall.
He stands in front of massive screens of blurry images. They flicker and change colour but I can never understand what they are. He just watches, not moving, and I just watch him. I’m not scared or panicked anymore. I’m surprisingly patient; it feels like he’s doing me a favour. I don’t want to take my eyes off of him.
He’s reading it like it’s the pages of a book I’ve so willed them to be. I think that this would be so much easier if I could see his brain through the back of his head, but I realise that I don’t want to. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking because I want this to be turned into something so messy and complicated that it turns this whole building upside down. I work out that he has the means to do it, but mostly that I want him to.
There are a lot of things that I want. He knows that.
The muscles of his back move slowly under his skin as he turns to look at me. His face is an empty playground, there is so much room for emotion but he has used none of it. Its empty, blank, only his eyes searching mine.
I feel helpless. It feels like he is picking my brain apart and looking inside of every chamber, everything exposed, naked and cold.
I feel an urgency to stop him, to look away from him, but before I can, he smiles.
And as he does, the screens fall off the walls in deafening crashes and screeches. With that one smile the whole floor shudders and I’m filled with heat. There’s a few flashes of bright light and with them I see him in negative. He smiles that same sadistic smile that I don’t like anymore. Suddenly it’s drenched in a whole new intention. I watch those white moments, those moments that change everything. But after that it is dark.
I turn around and run and scramble through the door, trying to run back from where I came but everything has collapsed now, everything is his and I can’t remember how this works.
I’m running and running and looking for my shadows of reason and calling out apologies and stumbling over my own feet, my own mistake.
I shouldn’t look back, I know he won’t be standing there anymore, but urgent inquisition is telling me to, so I do. Masses of massive walls are falling into each other, but he’s not there, and my insides crack.
My high walls and paths back to where I came from are crumbling around me. I don’t care, let them fall and snap my neck, let them make enough noise to blow my eardrums. Just don’t take me back to where I came from with nothing but shadows for company, and a view of my own head that will drive me to shoot myself if I have to spend another day watching it.
I realise that I don’t care if he’s watching me from somewhere just as I watched him, his shadows probably inspiring his intentions, watching me fall all over myself and laughing at my stupid attempts to fix this, to cope with this. Let him, because I’m not done with him. As much as watching my walls collapse around me hurts, it’s what I wanted. This is still my game, and he’s still playing, and even though I’m losing I could use him for purposes so much bigger than this.
This isn’t over, don’t do me any favours, just don’t stop playing.

I like this - no, it doesn't make too much sense on it's own, but when viewed symbolically it says a lot. You learn tons from a relationship or friendship like that, but it's certainly dangerous ground.

As for critique, I think you should look through carefully for lines that are repetitve; in a story like this, so focused on emotions, it's easy to repeat the same feeling in different words. Make sure that isn't happening - pick the best way to describe it and use that, and only that. Otherwise, it gets tiring. You're not too terribly bad at that, but it comes up at times.
Also, the bold is a little confusing, but maybe that's just me.

In nitpicky territory, I think you needed a period at the end of this sentence:
"There are a lot of things that I want. He knows that"

Keep writing! :]

Oh wow. So, I really like this. I mean, like REALLY like this. Like I want to own a copy and keep it somewhere in my closet (where I keep the dozen books I own). You made it on the shelf! Hypothetically!

But, yes, very awesome. All the emotions, the setting, the people--I can see them all, even if I'm perhaps not seeing what you see. (I shall blame that on all the years my dad owned an indoor paint ball field...) I can feel for the characters, too. Basically--this 'tis epic. Some parts are confusing, but not enough to take from the message.

Anyway, I have some tips for you, however.

1. Try and use fewer adjectives. Example of possibly too many adjectives: "Through these dark, empty, high corridors he’s running through them like it’s a game." Dark, empty, and high. It's best to use one; two if you need it.

2. Try not to use 'sadistic' and 'smile' as much, unless you MEAN to use them a lot.

3. This is too large to fit, so I'll just crack out my editor skillz and show.

Yours: "He’s panting, his chest rising and falling, but he looks at me sadistically and smiles, ‘bring it on,’ he seems to say."
Mine: "He’s panting, his chest rising and falling, but he looks at me sadistically and smiles. ‘Bring it on’ he seems to say."

Yours: "Again he looks up at me, ‘tisk tisk.’"
Mine: "Again he looks up at me. I hear him say 'Tisk, tisk' in my brain." or "Again he looks up at me. 'Tisk, tisk.'" and there can be more variations, but in its current state it makes little sense.

So, there you are. Just make sure to take everything with a grain of salt. Anyway, I hope that helped a little bit. *nods* And keep on writing...

-Casper

Hey there! Good job with grammar, I barely found anything. Here's what I did find...

He knows that

Forgot a period there...
Other than that there are some places where I question whether you should use a , or a ;.And whether or not, when someone's speaking, it should be capitilized. But the story was really interesting. Very mystical.
Keep writing!

Thank you so much for your helpful reviews

This is good, but I have a few suggestions (of course):
Firstly, lose the bolded writing. Good writing doesn't need bolded words to convey a feeling or point. Trust me, I learned this the hard way.
Second, don't tell someone before they read a story that is metaphorical that it is metaphorical, or it could lose it's effect. Yeah, you'll have people asking "What the eff is this about?", but the ones who know will better appreciate it.
Third, you have chains of adjectives, it's better to use as few as you can. Especially is short stories.
Other than that, I really liked this story. I kind of wish I knew what it was about so I could apply the situation in my mind. But there's nothing wrong with a mystery.