Madnax - A Story to Tell

On an evening walk, you take a shortcut through a dark alley that you could swear was never there until tonight. The city’s roar forms a rhythm that taps upon your ear drum. Something breaks the beat: a muffled bass and a deep, genderless whisper that seems to steam out of a dilapidated door. There’s a single peephole at eye-level. Knock, knock. A crimson eye peers outward. No questions asked, door creaks open. Inside, there’s no one, no sign of whomever let you in. There’s a lone stairwell descending. It’s pitch black, except for a single lightbulb swinging at the bottom. In the oscillating light, there’s a floating hand that curls a solitary finger, beckoning you to tiptoe into the underworld. You take the plunge. When you’re about five stairs away from the bottom, the stairwell suddenly extends. It seems to continue downwards forever. You pick up your pace, compelled to reach the bottom. Against all odds, you finally see an end. Just as you take the final step, a spotlight illuminates a stage. A muted piano nostalgically ignites your past. You’ve been here before. Black curtains tear open, and the spotlight moves to a single pair of dark purple lips. The lips have a story to tell.