Bustling footsteps and muffled voices. A fresh cold wind whips around picking up pieces of junk and twirling them around. The smells of car exhaust, cheap pretzels, and bird droppings. Screeching tires on concrete and the sounds of sirens echo against the skyscrapers. Sidewalks packed to the brim with busy people crashing into each other, yet they never seem to touch you. You  part the sea of people, walking through untouched. They steer clear of you at all costs, even if it means going into the street. They just won't be near you. Why? Not a clue. They just won't come close. 

Working in a cubicle in a center city highrise, 8 hours a day. Your desk is the size of a bedside table. Everyday you come to work, only to find your stuff gone. Again. They pile old folders, desks, and nick knacks into the already full cubicle. So every morning 30 minutes are wasted pulling it all out again. Then for the next 7 hours you work. Punching in useless numbers into the machine. No one talks to you. No one visits you. Then back down the elevator to the doors. Back through the throng of people. Into your apartment. A blowup mattress on the floor, a microwave, and one light. It is the size of a broom cupboard. 

“The neighbors are loud tonight. That ceiling could fall in any moment. The poster on the wall isn't straight.” You  talk to yourself. Why not? It's not like there's anyone real to talk to. “There is a crack in the wall there. There are more cobwebs than yesterday. Palisades.” What? Your mouth blurts out that last word. You must be going crazy. What is Palisades? Is your brain just making up words now? 

“Palisades.” You say it again, louder. You are jolted sharply. What is going on? Without thinking you grab your jacket and rush out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. It must be midnight by now. You need a computer. Now. You remember the back alley coffee shop. It has an old junk box computer in the back. You run there. You pass a few cops on the late night shift. They patrol the allies, but they don't seem to notice you. You rush past them and burst into the shop. Finally you reach the computer. P-a-l-i-s-a-d-e-s, you type into the machine one letter at a time. It dings as you enter each letter. The keys on the keyboard are dusty as if they havent been used in a while. The dim light of the screen flickers and you squint to read it. 

“The Palisades, also called the New Jersey Palisades or the Hudson River Palisades, are a line of steep cliffs along the west side of the lower Hudson River in Northeastern New Jersey and Southeastern New York in the United States.”

What? What was this? Why had this word taken over your mind like that? Why was it in your head? How had that single thought convinced you to go to a sketchy cafe at midnight just to find it's something useless. Unless you ever had to take a test on completely random and insignificant places in Southeastern New York this was useless. A total waste of time. The computer glitches and shuts down. You feel like punching it. 

Somber, you walk home. Back through the narrow dingy streets, past the homeless people sleeping by a trash can, past what looked like a dead body until your building is within eyesight. Bags weigh heavy under your eyes and only now you realize how late it is. You pass the doors of other apartments, full of people just like you. Outcast, ignored, and struggling. You reach your door only to find it is ajar. Had you forgotten to shut it? Or was someone inside. Your heart is racing and blood pumping in your ears. As quietly as you can you open the door. It creaks eerily. Something feels off. You look inside with terror. Empty. Just how you had left it. Not a cobweb out of place. With a sigh of relief you step into the room. Your footstep echoes as your foot touches the floor. Something feels off. It was eerily quiet. No city noises. No yelling neighbors. You take a deep breath and step into the room. Nothing happens. With a sigh of relief you move to the bed. It has just hit you how tired and cold you are.  You flop down onto the mattress and you can hear the springs creak. There is a moment of calm. And then you fall. Straight through the floor. You see the rooms pass by you in a flash. And through the next floor you plummet. You don't feel anything except a cold wind rushing against you and the feeling of falling. Your stomach jolts and you nearly throw up.  You reach out to grab something, anything to stop your fall. But your hand passes through it like mist. It begins to feel like a dream, almost peaceful. Then just as suddenly as it started, it ends. All you can see is black. But your eyes roll back in your head and you lose consciousness

It was all a dream. It had to be. These thoughts chase each other around your head. You are laying on a rough surface. It is freezing. The kind of cold that gets inside your bones. You open your eyes slowly. Gray clouds float above you.. Mist swirls around your head. Small tufts of dry grass are scattered around aimlessly. Grayish brown shrubs and twiggy trees surround you. In the distance you see only deep blue water. Rubbing your eyes you sit up. A scream escapes your mouth. You are on the brink of a cliff. It must be at least a 500 foot drop. You rush backwards, getting as far away from the edge as possible. Your breath comes in short gasps. Struggling to stand, you look around you, trying not to look at the steep drop below you. A small trail winds away into the distance. Without knowing where it leads you follow it. Anything to get away from the cliffs. 

You have been following that trail for hours. Nothing has changed. The fog hangs low and you can barely see 5 feet in front of you. You feel like you are walking in place. Shrubs, grass, and the occasional tree. It has gotten no warmer and there is no sign of the sun through the heavy clouds. Every so often you lose the trail and wander through the landscape until you find it again. Your mind becomes hazy, just like the mist around you. How long have you been walking? It feels like days. You can't go another step. You collapse in a heap, as if someone dropped a led weight on your chest. Something crinkles under your arm. It feels like paper. You gaze down at it. Sluggishly you reach for it. It feels smooth in your hands. It is a piece of paper. It takes all of your strength but you open it. 

Welcome to The Palisades! It read in a fancy font. Below that was a map. You can't think straight. Palisades. That sounds familiar to you but you can't seem to place it. You had heard that name before. It meant something to you. You know if you can figure it out this would make more sense. However your mind is slowly trickling away. You shake your head and look at the map. It makes no sense but you get a strange feeling. Part of the map seems to glow a mysterious blue.. The mist shifts and the same blue glow seems to draw you up. The map slips out of your hand. You are half walking and half floating, being pulled. The mist swirls around you as if it were alive, glowing blue. You can't see where you are going. The mist seems to have a hold on you. It is carrying you. 

The fog clears as you pass between a grove of scraggly trees. That magical mist seems to vanish. No more blue glow. No more floating. You are in a clearing. All you can see is rocks. You are back at the edge of the cliffs. The drop seems even steeper here. The wind whips around your head. A small piece of ripped blue fabric is caught in the branches. It flutters and catches your attention. You move towards it without realizing the branch overhangs over the drop. Once you reach it you look down. The drop is right below you, mere inches away. You sway dangerously. But you see something. Down at the very bottom. A figure. It doesn't move. You can hardly make it out but you know, something awful had happened here. Why were you here?! You have to leave. But you keep staring. It looks like a body. It is twisted and mangled. But you lean an inch too far and the wind hurls you over the edge. You scream but the sound is lost in the wind. In one last attempt you reach out to grab the branch. But your hand turns to mist and passes right through it. You panic. You are about to fall to your death, just like that body below you. But you don't. You float. Just like in the mist. Like a feather falling down. You descend slowly, the wind tossing you around. You reach the ground  2 feet away from the body. It is mangled and rotting. The rocks underneath it are stained with blood.  A metal rod sticks out of its chest. It is swarmed with flies. Pieces of the same blue fabric are still on the body, stained with blood. Your mind fills with terror. You know the corpse. You bring yourself to look at the face. Though bloodied and broken you recognize it. How could you not? It is you. The wind picks back up as you turn to smoke, carrying you away in the breeze as you gaze at your own corpse.