The power goes out.
I look around the darkness, not knowing what happened.
There's no storm outside.
I look out the window, there are lights nearby.
I stand up, or do I sit down?
I don't know my placement in this blackish landscape.
I begin to breathe shallowly.
The air feels thick and dusty.
My throat is swelling, but it's just fine.
My eyes begin to throb, struggling to make out shapes in my home.
My feet are numb.
It's as if there is no floor to stand on.
I take a step forward, but I don't feel like I moved anywhere.
Somewhere, I hear a footstep.
It came from above, not below.
Maybe the walls.
I can't see any walls.
Are the walls still there?
A footstep--there it is again!
I shout, but my voice isn't heard.
I yell for someone to turn the lights on and there's no response from the dense, empty
space.
I start to move rapidly.
Placing what I believe to be my feet in front of one another in succession.
I don't feel movement.
Then, I can't move.
Something is blocking my feet.
Or where my feet are supposed to be.
I think it's my desk.
I don't know if I'm in my study.
I don't know where I am.
I hear more footsteps.
This time, they're close.
They may be right behind me.
I can't tell for sure.
I spin around to face what I cannot see.
I wave my arms.
Red.
Red everywhere.
Red sky with red air with red earth.
But I can still see.
Muddy structures ooze with dark liquid.
A figure stands before me.
Then it is blackness once more.
I feel the space around me closing in, but only on one side.
I am on the opposite side of a funnel of sorts.
I feel the vertigo effect while staring at the void funnel.
I fall back.
My fall is cushioned by the air or the ground.
It is all the same now.
The figure walks up to me and looks down.
It is black.
It is red.
It is white.
It is every color.
It can be seen and it can't be seen.
My mind spins in circles all while it remains still.
Past the figure is a tall pillar.
I can see the top as if I am looking down at it while I am laying on the ground.
The world is upside down and right-side up.
Then I am staring straight through the tunnel once more.
Flashes of a woman.
Flashes of me as my house.
Flashes of my family as my house.
Flashes of my house as my house.
A little voice tells me: "Relate to the circumstance."
This all makes sense.
I feel my way down the funnel of a tunnel.
I cannot actually feel the walls, as they are not there, but I know they will guide
me.
The figure is getting further away.
My head blurs and becomes fuzzy.
I am floating.
I am flying towards the figure.
Now the figure stops.
A loud noise plays.
I am reminded of an organ.
There is a train going around the organ.
Each train car is a little racecar.
I cannot see these things, but I know they are there.
I see the organ train.
I know that I must travel back.
The organ is getting louder and louder.
There is a room with a small, black ball that pulsates with every note.
The ball gets bigger.
When it pushes up against the walls of the room, I'll disappear.
I must leave.
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.
Little glow in the dark stars illuminate my imagination.
I am in my bed, in my room.
My sheets are damp.
My head throbs.
I am dizzy, despite laying still.
I get up to go to the bathroom.
I walk towards my door.
It opens for me.
There is a black, hooded figure standing next to the door.
I hear him say: "I'm gonna getcha!"
He drags me.
He gently takes me by the hand.
I am clawing at the carpet to get away as he pulls my feet.
I am walking next to him down the hall.
The stairs are arriving.
I begin to tumble with him down the stairs.
I am being dragged down the stairs.
My head throbs.
I am going to throw up.
I open my eyes and stare at the bannister.
I am laying in the middle of the staircase to the main level of my house.
I feel a dog watching me from the corner of my room.
I know it is a dog simply because I know.
It is there.
It is black, soaked in slime.
The dog walks over to the armchair in the corner of my room.
A voice behind the chair whispers: "Hi."
I walk back into my room.
I crawl towards my bed.
I pull the covers over my head.
I know they're not there, I tell myself.
It's because you are simply five years old.
You read too many scary movies and watched too many scary books.
The world throbs.
I just want to be healthy again.
Never before in my life had I been so utterly consumed in darkness like this.
Sure, lights would go out, or night would come, but this deafening darkness was different.
It was as if I was formless within it all, sequestered in the baseless superiority of
sound nothingness.
I could feel the death of dreams – hear their everlasting cries and pleas as they
were devoured relentlessly to aid in the birth of the horrors escaping my dying brain.
They were beautiful.
God, they were so beautiful that it was painful even to witness their resurrection.
The ebony surroundings were like poison; I could feel its tendrils worm in to my pores
and grip the singular, shining piece of hope that I had managed to retain within my decaying
heart.
He had done this.
He had damned me to a place where he knew I could never survive, a place that solely
reminded me of the one He had stolen me from originally.
That sick bastard knew just how to dig and twist into the likewise abyss that occupied
my chest.
My screams aided the blackness, producing puffy clouds of shade filled with the agony
of abandonment that burned in the depths of my small intestines.
I could feel wet heat drip down my face, collecting underneath my chin before dripping down my
neck and the slight raise of my chest.
I screamed louder in to the silence, desperate for the warmth of that disgusting liquid.
The freeze of the darkness was overwhelming.
It groped and clenched my lungs; its nails scraped the soft inner lining of my shrieking
esophagus.
It was like I could feel the something taking shape in the tenderness of my womb and clawing
its way into my limbs and organs.
My cries were unending, shattering the silence with humanity, something that purgatory was
lacking horridly.
No other actions seemed appropriate.
I just wanted something, anything to hear me.
My screams stopped suddenly, the hot liquid filling my throat and mouth to a point in
where I began to choke.
No longer could I let out any noise but struggling sobs and coughs, the syrupy lava sputtering,
splattering from my muzzle.
I couldn't have begged harder for it to stop.
The metallic, salty mixture scraping my taste buds numb and useless.
Static filled my eyesight, finally coloring the deadly black with flecks of grey and white.
I choked out a noise of joy.
I could see!
Oh God, I could finally see!
The shreds of my heart flew, my sight able to formulate the scene before me.
I paused once my eyes adjusted.
It was mortifying, what I saw.
Fingers wriggled playfully in front of my eyes, a hand moving to try and wave the best
it possibly could from what seemed to be an unnatural position.
My throat clenched, attempting to let out a scream.
My muscles rapidly contracted and disbanded.
I sputtered and gagged, gasping for air through my clogged airway.
I had to regain my composure before I could realize the real reason that I could no longer
speak…
Sprouting from behind my teeth was a long, pale arm.
It was lined with somewhat flawless skin besides drips and trails of red.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
There was no way this was possible.
It had to be some sort of nightmare.
My eyes watered once more at the pressure in my head suddenly blossoming.
It focused even more, and more and more and more, my brain crushing against the top of
my skull once the piercing sting of a shoulder blade caressed my tongue.
I sputtered a laugh, feebly sinking in to a delirious sense of whimsy.
I could feel my mind melt into ecstatic agony.
My throat expanded to make room as a large, round shape forced its way through.
I heard my jaw snap as the crown of the sphere peeked past my lips.
My vision was swallowed up in to white before… before I felt my body ripped in half from
mouth to middle.
It was a blissful feeling, really.
I fell, slumping to the ground like a sack of tissue and meat, unable to move.
My organs splayed between my split form, and my blood painted the ground delicately like
an abstract painting.
It was beautiful.
I was beautiful, just as those dreams had once been.
The soft glow of the newly born individual slowly died from my sight.
I could feel them nearby.
I could feel them stare at me with a calloused grin.
It was muffled – everything was muffled – but I could just hear them enough as the
darkness closed in.
Their voice was raspy just as mine had been in my screams.
Their voice was… exactly like mine, actually.
I heard their laughter.
I heard their delight at my death.
I heard their teasing, "One of us has to make it…
Don't you think?"
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