Speaker 1: When tragedy strikes, it unfolds in the most unexpected ways.
There were no ominous narrations or suspenseful melodies, no hints
that the ordinary will suddenly transform into an extraordinary event.
In an instant a cataclysm can reveal its devastating more,
leaving chaos and despair for those left to witness. The
air was chilly in November, and amidst the anticipation of
a four day Thanksgiving weekend, the impending doom of the
finals loomed, clouding our excitement. That morning, I was in
science class do my best on the final exam. Too quickly,
in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The events
that followed were both awe inspiring and terror inducing. As
I call, we were finalizing the evidence for our report,
and my ears popped as if I had rolled down
the window of a speeding car. The jarring rumble shook
the classroom, accompanied by a deafening blast that robbed me
of breath. The fire alarm wailed as water rained down,
drenching us. I sprang up from my desk with an
odd adreamal focus. We hastily made our way toward the aisle,
abandoning our finals surprisingly, we maintained a semblance of order.
The fire alarm blared as our teacher guided us out,
and we obeyed in a mix of fear and trust.
Like frightened animals, we followed the teacher's lead, navigating the
corridors to the nearest exit. We had to walk past
my mom's classroom, and I wondered if i'd see her
getting her kids out. As I turned the corner, her
classroom came into full view, and what I beheld was
a nightmare made manifest. My heart seemed to stop, yet
its frantic pounding was louder than ever. My mother's classroom
door torn off its hinges, lay in a shattered heap
against the opposite wall. The threshold was consumed by a
furious inferno, raging uncontrollably. I was now the one to
stand widness to this wake. I don't know what compelled
me to charge into the blazing moor. Was it delusion
of invincibility, a desperate belief that I could save her
like a superhero? Or was it a simple act of
need driven by an unexplainable force? And I cannot say
even now. I pushed through the flames and smoke, and
as soon as I crossed the threshold, the fire seized
its anger. Descending the staircase with the grace of a
stumbling infant, I hardly registered the loss of footing half
way down. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, dulling the pain
as I tumbled, and I regained my balance on the
final steps. And there at the bottom step, an impossible
coldness enveloped me. The chill of the air permeated my senses.
As I departed the bottom step. Inside the room, obscured
by dense smoke, the cries of anguish echoed. An nervous
sweat broke out on my brow. As I ventured forward,
guided by the sound, the acred stench of burning and
flesh and hair assaulted my senses, threatening to overpower me. Gradually,
my eyes adjusted to the darkness, granting me the unwelcome
gift of sight. I wish they had failed me. The
horrifying images etched deeply into my psyche. Charred bodies strewn
across the floor, The limbs twisted and contorted, some still smoldered,
becoming consumed by thin lines of crimson. I crawled greedily
along their blackening skin, reducing it to ash. The scene
was catastrophic. It was repulsive. A nauseating sensation crept up
from within, the familiar prelude to vomiting. I thought to
suppress it, driven by an instinct to reach the crying
emanating from an overturned desk in the far corner of
the room. That must be my mum. She's still alive,
I thought naively. My path was obstructed by the lifeless
forms of classmates down. My gut warned me to leave,
but I ignored it. Almost reaching the desk, my attension
was drawn to yet another body lying in my path.
This one was slightly larger than the others. It took
only a moment to realize the unthinkable. This was my mother.
Her right side was gruesomely absent, her eyes clouded with
milky white, and her jaw hung slack. She had lost
an arm and a leg. Dead. My mother lay lifeless
at my feet. The sound of sobbing irrupted again, originating
from behind the desk. No discernible words, just heartbroken sobs.
Setting aside my grief for the moment, Aided by shock,
I left my mother's side to reach this person. The
true magnitude of the disaster had not yet fully sunk
in the realization that no one could have survived. The
crying grew louder as I approached, echoing not only in
my ears but in my thoughts. He drowned out the
clamor of the alarms. It was as if I was
ensnared in a waking dream, with the cries became my
sole focus, blotting out every other sense. Reaching the desk,
I cautiously peered behind it, my eyes drawn to a
huddled figure in the corner. His black and skin mirrored
the others, and he possessed little remaining hair. Tremors coursed
through his body as he faced the wall. His arms
extended limply, wrists hanging from his forearms. Hey, I yelled,
Are you okay? Can you move? I said? As I'm
in new movered around the desk, Looking back on it now,
it was incredibly obvious that he wasn't no response, perhaps
the explosion had damaged this hearing. Instinctively, I reached out
and grasped his hand. The moment our skin made contact,
the crying ceased and the tremor subsided. Slowly, he began
to turn his head towards me, his neck moving with jerky,
disjointed snaps, and then I beheld his face. Leathery skin
clung to his emaciated skull, while his eyes, wide milky
gray and white, mirrored my mother's through a slackened jaw.
Brown teeth peeped out, devoid of lips, His broken nose
sat withered upon his face completely. His leathery skin continued
down his skeletal frame, with patches peeling off, revealing a
putrid yellow fluid oozing from the infected wounds. I stood
there in shock, taking in his convulsions and heaves. Suddenly
his head rocked like that of a newborn, and he
took a ragged, strained breath. Then he let out a
sound unlike anything I had ever heard, But that's not
the right way to describe it. The sound triggered a
sensation within me, a feeling that wasn't entirely my own.
I was engulfed by an overwhelming grief, an intense pain
that consumed me entirely. Guilt as I had never known,
washed over me, threatening to drown me in its depths.
I recoiled from the desk, stumbling backward until I fell
into my mother's charred remains, A cloud of ash billowed forth,
caressing my face. As I gasped for air, I indvertently
inhaled the plumes of my mother's ash. I threw upon myself,
tears streaming uncontrollably. Crawling on my hands and knees, I
distanced myself from the nightmare, my existence teetering on the brink.
I crawled and then ran. Once I regained my footing,
I ran out of that room, up the stairs, through
the engulfing flames, through the school, past my bewildered classmates.
I kept running. I ran unto my legs could no
longer bear the way to my body and my shattering reality.
I just kept running. Eventually I collapsed in a local park,
where the police discovered me. The cold, crisp grass cradled
my face, leaving damp imprints in unison with my tears.
The officer who found me sat silently beside me in
the field, offering no words of advice nor encouragement. We
both began to shiver as the cold crept into our bones.
I laid in that field until I succumbed to exhaustion
and fell into a fitful sleep. I was so utterly
exhausted when the officer drove me home, I awoke to
a reality I felt both distant and surreal. The following
years slipped away in a haze, an amalgamation of twisting
memories and blurred moments. I found myself residing in my
mother's home under the temporary custody of my aunt and uncle.
The settlement from the life insurance payout, locked away in
a conservatorship, offered a glimmer of financial security. Grateful for
their decision, I thanked ma lucky stars that my aunt
did not seize the opportunity to claim the money as
her own. Instead, she handed me a substantial sum of cash.
It was an overwhelming amount for a seventeen year old
to possess while grappling with the weight of newfound responsibility.
In due course, I was granted emancipation, propelled forward by
financial freedom. Little did I know that this freedom would
become a catalyst for a destructive spiral, deepening the void
within my soul with every regretful choice. The passing months
merged as if time itself was nothing more than a
fleeting illusion. I was constantly oscillating between moments of herror
and induced intoxication and near unconsciousness. My days were spent
in a perpetual state of chasing a fragile equilibrium, and
so as predictable and anti climactic as it may sound,
I succumbed to the overwhelming grip of a heroin overdose.
I vaguely recall the Nature documentary playing in the background
as I craved another hit. Preparing the syringe, I found
a suitable vein, and the liquid bliss coursed through my veins,
flooding my senses. Was it my fifth sixth, more than
I had ever done before? The rush surged through my
body with an intensity I couldn't bear. My balance faltered,
and I collapsed onto the couch, my head spinning in
a disorienting haze. I slipped into unconsciousness, unaware of the
vomit that spilled forth from my mouth. At that moment,
I believed I was on the brink of death. In
my haziness, I faintly recalled a piercing scream of some
one who had entered the front door. I must have
appeared as the visual embodiment of the death I had
longed for. It was my aunt who discovered me in
that state, the sight she never deserved to see. She
was far too good to be exposed to the wretchedness
that had become me. Rehabilitation became an inevitable path I
had to tread. My therapist posited that the horrors I
witnessed in my mother's classroom were projections of my mind.
We sionifications of the hellish experiences I endured. In the
ensuing months, I grappled with a profound sense of worthlessness.
Despite the earnest efforts of those around me, weeks continued
to bleed into months, and progress toward emotional and mental
recovery became a slow, agonizing burn. No matter the tools
and coping mechanisms I acquired, no matter the mental acrobatics
I performed, I found myself sinking deeper into the abyss.
The insidious cravings for substances clung to my heart with
sickening tenacity. By the end of that year, I retreated
into seclusion, abandoning my education and embracing a life of isolation.
Depression became my constant companion, blurring the days into an
indistinguishable haze. I traded one vice for countless others, escaping
reality through endless hours of content and video games. Despising
every fiber of my existence. Late into the solitary nights,
even in sleep I found no respite. My nights were
tormented by relentless nightmares, unyielding in the pursuit of stealing
away what little rest I had left, and my emotional nuddeir.
I ceased to care for even the most the basic needs.
My body, an instrument of survival, was now perpetually hunched,
bent by the weight of my deteriorating state. I had
become a repungent wreck, a physical manifestation of the turmoil
within my mind. I was a mirror reflecting the distorted
image of my shattered mentality. The battle against my demons
was slipping through my fingers, and I was losing myself
in the process. In time, my life embarked on a
transformative journey, emerging from the shattered remnants of an existence
that had unwettingly become my solace. It began with a
simple spark, an eruption of laughter. It was not a
mere chuckle or a fleeting smark. It was a barely
deep laugh that reverberated within me. The sound itself was
foreign to my ears, stirring confusion and exhilaration. At that moment,
I felt immense pride swell within me. Soon after, I
sheard my former self transitioning from a reanimated corpse to
an animated being. My new addiction became growth, and I
pursued it with fervor. I constructed a fortress, a barricade
to withstand the relentless onslaught of my mind. Attained the
internal chaos that it consumed, me, gradually reclaiming control over
my destiny. With every strained step, I crawled a feeble
yet indomitable way up a treacherous mountain. Knowing I had
to venture beyond my childhood home to nurture my emotional development,
I decided without hesitation. I relinquished my home to my aunt,
packed my belongings, and embarked on a journey to Florida.
Florida became my homestead. I found refuge in a vacation
cabin amidst the serenity of the Everglades. There were no
neighbors for miles around, and the land belonged to a
kind couple who were seldom present. The cabin, nestled within
a dense, humid forest, provided ample opportunity to confront my
inmost thoughts, aiding my recovery. Though reclusive, I reveled in
the new found freedom. The forest around me was a
testament to nature's magnificence. It thrived with beauty, teeming with
life and vibrant hues. Birds sang, insects hummed, and the
sun set gracefully. He was a stark contrast to the
desolate nights I had once known. Occasionally I would venture
to an ocean fed creak as Stone's throwaway, indulging in
peaceful fishing. With each passing day, I slowly fortified my resolve,
gathering the shattered pieces of my courage. The journey ahead
remained daunting, but still a glimmer of hope illuminated the
path ahead. I clung to the belief that someday, somehow
I would break free from the clutches of the sphere.
It was precisely what I'd yearned for. My life had
become my own again. Though the memories still carried pain,
they had become more bearable. I was on the verge
of uttering those elusive words, I am happy, until the
nightly lamentations found me, the anger cries piercing the silence.
A relentless reminder of the entity that haunted my sleep.
Sleep became an elusive luxury, for as darkness descended, the
wail shattered any chance of rest. Daylight offered a brief respite.
The cries became a force that unleashed forgotten pain. Shattering
the barricade, I erected the dormant rancor within me, stirred,
Awakening with a vengeance. My inner turmoil returned, engulfing me
in a tempest that left me gasping for breath. My
resilience crumbled like sand, slipping through trembling fingers. The laughter
that once danced upon my lips died in my throat.
I broke quickly, so quietly. Then one night I stirred
from a nap that it inadvertently consumed me. Insensation tugged
at my consciousness, rousing me from my slumber. The room
was shrouded in stale silence, the clock displaying a one
twenty six a m. It was the dead of night,
yet mercifully devoid of the haunting cries. With cautious curiosity,
I rose from my seat and made my way toward
the front door. Spurred by new found audacity, I recall
thinking I should step outside, prove to myself that nothing
is there, prove the crying is simply in my head.
As I approached the door, I envisioned walking outside and
wondering where I should go. That night, the air was
eerily calm, devoid of the usual bug song. I pressed
my face against the small window on the door, peering
into the darkness beyond, and fully expecting to find only
an indistinct shadow. But to my horror, there it stood,
staring back at me with an intensity. The scent shivers
down my spine. Our faces were separated by a mere
fraction of an inch of glass, locked in a macarb
face to face encounter, a cacophony of screams erupted, shattering
the once tranquil air and sending tremors through my home.
The glow from the kitchen illuminated his face, etching its
haunting contours deep within my mind. His quivering jaw moved erratically,
a grotesque dance of opening and closing with each labored breath.
Each exhale berthed a clinging mist, smearing the glass with
intricate patterns, forming its surface into eerie artistry. His vacant
eyes remained fixed ahead, devoid of recognition, as if ensnared
within the clutches of unyielding madness. With unsteady steps, he
gradually retreated, his form, shrinking into a crowd's position mere
feet away from my door. There was no denying the
presence before me. Roseen in shock, I stood there, grappling
with a maelstrom of emotions. Fear, curiosity, and twisted fascination intertwined,
forming a turbulent whirlwind of conflicting impulses. Though an unsettling
truth settled within me, there was no denying the raw
reality of his existence. This was no figment of my imagination.
There was a chilling encounter with a realm beyond my comprehension.
My scream tore through the air, an instinctual response fueled
by primal emotions. No coherent thoughts could encapsulate the overwhelming
turmoil within me. Anger, fear, and frustration merged into a
sickening sensation that gnawed at my core. I had grown
tired of sleepless nights and a life that no longer
felt like mine. I'd escaped across the country to flee
from this, Yet here it was huddled just feet away.
Mocking my desperate attempt at sarlas. It felt like a
cruel joke my own mind was playing on me. Leave
me alone, I shouted, my voice cracking. His tears streamed
down my face. Please just leave me alone. My cries
resemble the agonized wails of a wounded and trapped animal.
Roar and untamed. Outside, the creature continued its relentless screams,
rising to its feet again with a disjointed movement. It
approached my door, its contorted posture resembling the grotesque position
of a late stage tetanus patient, skin tearing as it leaned.
Leave me alone. I yelled again, unleashing a surge of
pent up emotion that had been dormant for far too long.
My please fell upon rotting ears. I could not comprehend
or sympathize. It reached my door. I had rehearsed this
moment in my mind over and over. I imagined how
would confront and eradicate this embodiment of my deteriorating sanity.
I had chosen this entity as the symbol of my
mental decline, the effigy upon which my deserved future lay
flayed and a bloody goodlike fashion offered to the altar
of my current reality. Driven by panic and rage, I
grabbed the fire axe above my table, my body moving
mechanically as I propelled myself back toward the barrier that
separated us. A wordless scream of terror, revulsion, and hatred
irrupted from deep within me as I crashed through the door,
my clenched teeth unable to contain the overwhelming intensity of
my emotions. The creature was struck by the door, its
body forcibly pushed backward, eliciting a feral gasp from its throat.
Now I was determined to end it, kill it, kill me,
candle kill. The words reverberated in an unsettling loop within
my mind, out of sync with each other, fueling my purpose.
As I prepared to face the culmination of my anguish.
In a whirlwind of uncontrolled movement, I tumbled down the steps,
my body flailing as I crashed onto the ground. And
before I could fully process the fall, I found myself
at my feet, instinctively rising without conscious thought, and there
it was, face to face with me, its breath uncomfortably
warm and sticky against my skin. The beutred stench of
decay invaded my nostrils, causing me to recoil in demoralized repulsion.
I felt my courage waver and my resolve crumble. I
realized I was not strong enough, not capable of facing this.
I back pedaled until I was pressed against the wall
of my house. Then it screamed, convulsed, and trembled before me,
its milky eyes fixed on an unseen horizon, its hands
stretched out, reaching for something beyond my comprehension. With that scream,
a surge of courage and rage flood in my being.
It was the same as it had been all those
years ago in the school, an overwhelming flood of emotions.
They were not truly mine to feel. It's difficult to articulate,
but I embodied those emotions and allowed them to engulf me,
to consume me. Kill. The word reverberated relentlessly in my mind.
Springing forward with a wild scream, I swung the axe
with all my might, the blade sinking deep into its side.
The sensation of bone deflecting the force of my strikers
etched into my memory, never to be forgotten. Blood another
fluid sprayed from the wound as it took a few
faltering steps to the side. Pushed by the momentum of
my assault, the creature seized, its cries, its tremors, its
breath stood still, and it finally turned to look at me.
Fear held me captive under its gaze. We stared at
each other, locked in a moment, and felt like an eternity.
Voul breath washed over me, once more, seeping into my senses.
Beyond that, nothing happened. We simply stood there, locked in
a silent exchange. I willed my frozen bones to thaw.
My mind transitioning from terror and friends, had raged to
something else. It was in pride, but rather a different,
indescribable emotion. Yet it carried a sense of triumph, I believe.
Unbeknownst to me, it had reached out and gently grasped
my arm, its touch going unnoticed until it began to speak.
I never meant to scare you, he rasped, his voice
torn and ragged, struggling to emerge between shallow breaths. I'm
sorry this had happened to you, it uttered, its words,
filled with agony and desperation. Tears welled up in its eyes,
a flicker of pain crossing its face as its ragged
hand clutched at the axe, lodged in its new laceration.
Please kill me, he wheezed, his pleased reverberating in my
mind and reaching my ear. Simultaneously with its other hand,
he gripped the axe and brought the blade to its neck.
Kill me, candle kill Now. Final word echoed like an
explosion within my head, and his hand pressed against my face.
Everything plunged into total darkness for a fragmented moment. As
I swung the axe. Suddenly I felt myself hurtling through space,
avoid engulfing me. The air grew cold, and the wind
whipped past, intensifying the disorienting descent. I screamed in a
frenzy of confusion and terror, my voice lost in the
abyss Downward, I plummeted faster and faster, the nauseating sensation
overwhelming me. Did I die? Is this death? I'm dead?
Thoughts of my eminent demise gripped my courage, but I resisted,
unwilling to accept my fate just yet. In the distance
far below, a growing light pierced through the darkness. Fresh
tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision and making
it difficult to gage the proximity of the light and
how much time remained before I would be halted by
the unforgiving ground. But it was rapidly approaching. I squeezed
my eyes shut, unleashing a scream that echoed through the void.
In the face of imminent death, I summoned every ounce
of defiance within me. I want to live, The words
echoed in my mind, a fervent plea, repeating like a mantra.
I curled into a protective ball, bracing myself for the
impending impact that would mark my brutal end. Seconds stretched
into eternity as I awaited the inevitable. Then, with a
soft and gentle thud, I collided with the ground, the
impact akin to falling off the couch. A feeble whimper
escaped me, carrying away the remnants of my shattered pride. Slowly,
I uncored my limbs and remained still a mix of
confusion and exhaustion, paralyzing me as this death, Why had
I somehow managed to survive? At the very least I
was conscious? I reached out with my hands, feeling the
texture of the hardwood floor beneath me. I tempted to
open my eyes. With darkness engulfed everything, rendering me blind
to my surroundings. Rolling onto my back, I extended my
arms as far as there would go, searching for walls
that eluded my touch, instead only finding a formless nothingness,
and new fear emerged as a creeping suspicion arose. Did
I even have a face? With trepidation, I brought my
unseen hands towards my face, and a sharp sting shocked me.
As my dirty, sweaty fingers met my open eyes, it burned,
and a faint chuckle escaped my lips, mingling with tears
that continued to cascade down my face. I released a weak,
triumphant sigh, throwing my arm in the air, and darkness
claimed me once more, my consciousness slipping away. When I awoke,
I found myself in an unfamiliar hallway, illuminated by ethereal torchlight.
Glancing around for my position on the floor, I took
in the details of my surroundings. The hallway stretched endlessly
in both directions, its warped and aged, the dark wood
floors covered in a thick layer of dust. On each
side of me, two doors stood adorned with handles clad
in aged bronze The pealing, curling white paint of doors
cast a small shadow that danced in the flickering flames.
Ornate red and gold walls framed the hall, extending into
the distance without interruption. The air hung still thin and cold.
I pushed myself upright, drawing a reflective breath, just to
find that my lungs refused to cooperate. I couldn't draw
in the air, an unsettling revelation that further shock my
fragile state. Yet, amidst the disquietude, an unexpected acceptance settled
upon me. Maybe I truly am dead, I mused, one
massaging the between my eyes, and perhaps this is limbo
or some other place beyond the realm of the living.
Standing before the doors, I brushed off the accumulated dust.
As my fingers traced the bronzed knobs. I tempted to
turn the knob of the door on my right. It
remained resolute, refusing to budge with my attempt. I turned
my attention to the door on my left, hoping for
a different outcome. Yet once again my efforts proved fruitless.
The doors remained firmly shut, denying me entry. A sense
of resignation settled over me as I contemplated the possibility
that I had indeed entered a land of limbo or purgatory,
where the deceased wandered aimlessly, seeking answers and respite. If
there were lessons to be learned or tasks to be fulfilled,
yet did discover them, But the absence of purpose, the
prospect of eternal nothingness, weighed heavily on my soul. With
the deep breath, I made the conscious decision to venture
further into the darkness, forsaking the dwindling light behind me.
Hours turned into an indeterminate passage of time as I
traversed the corridor, my hand trailing beside me against the
cold surface of the wall. Surprisingly, fatigue and hunger eluded me,
further reinforcing the notion that I probably died. If this
was the extent of my existence, an eternal cycle of
aimless wondering, I yearned for something more. The prospect of
mere nothingness, devoid of purpose or meaning, felt like a
reality abandoned by the gods long ago. Determination and desperation
meaning within me, urging me to maintain my pace and
keep moving forward despite the uncertainty. And then a sudden
burst of light ruptured the darkness behind me, catching me
off guard. The icy tendrils of fear gripped my chest,
causing me to flail and stumble my yelp. Swallowed by
the darkness. With a surprising display of grace, I flocked
heavily on my stomach. I clambered to my feet and
swiftly turned around. Repelled by a sense of desperate longing,
I hurtled toward the new found light, driven by an
unspoken fear that it would fade if I didn't reach
it in time. Desperation fueled my actions as I lunged
for the handle of the nearest door, seeking the anchor
to halt my momentum. The handle remained steadfast, unyielding as
it abruptly halted my chaotic trajectory. I clutched the doorknob
with both hands, pouring every haunts of strength into my
attempt to pry it open. I threw my weight against
the door, pulled, hit, kicked, and pleaded in desperation, but
the door remained unafflicted. Exhausted and defeated, I crumpled against
the door, collapsing to my knees. I buried my face
in my folded, arms, tears flowing freely once again, as
a sense of hopelessness enveloped me. What was the point?
There was nowhere to go, no escape from this damn place.
I was trapped, imprisoned within my own personal purgatory. This
was my punishment. Reality began to fracture, my veil of
ignorance slowly lifted. Could I truly be dead? The realization
dawned upon me, shattering the feeble illusion of safety and acceptance.
I wasn't okay. I wasn't safe. The weight of my
unease bore down upon me, threatening to consume what little
resolved remained. In the face of uncertainty, I whispered the
truth that echoed within my being, I'm not okay. I
rolled on to my side, curling into a tight ball,
clutching my legs close to my chest. I surrendered to
the oceans that consumed me. I seized all efforts, resigned
to my fate. Time lost all meaning as I lay there, motionless,
accumulating layers of dust upon my immobile body. Months or
perhaps years passed in this frozen state. I remained frozen,
a monument to despair and defeat. The way to my
surrender bore down upon me, and I grew stagnant in
body and spirit. As time passed, a small voice emerged
from the depths of my being, offering tiny shouts of defiance.
It urged me to continue, questioning why I should give up.
The relentless nagging of that voice eroded the staleness of
my resolve, and so with great effort, I gave in
to the persistent beckoning within. I began to stir my
brittle bones, creaking and cracking in response to the tentative movements.
Every inch of my being protested, muscles screaming. As I
defied the platitudes that had held me captive, the desire
for something different, something more, ignited within me. It took time.
When I managed to rise to a sitting position. My
body clung stubbornly to the remnants of my self imposed stagnation,
resisting my will. But I knew I had to move,
just move. I whispered those two simple words to myself,
a mantra in the stillness. With each painful twitch and
each tear in my flesh, I pressed forward. The blinding
light pierced through the darkness, and I quickly shielded my eyes.
The hallway one shrouded in darkness, it was now ablaze
with a furious glow of burning candles, illuminating every inch
of the endless walls, adorned with their white doors, Shielding
my eyes from the searing exposure. I recoiled from the skull,
watching heat that began to radiate from the flames. I
peered through the gaps of my fingers, and a sight
greeted me that filled my heart with renewed hope. There
at the end of the hallway lay an exit, a
definite continuation beyond these confines. A rush of motivation coursed
through my veins, igniting a fire within my soul. Leaning
against the wall for support, I wheeled my legs to
carry me forward, pushing past the pane. With each step,
the longing to reach the final door consumed me. Drowning
out the agony, I moved with a shaky shuffle that
evolved into a stiff, determined speed walk. In retrospect, I
can only imagine the nightmarish image I presented, But at
that moment, all I wanted was to reach the end,
to embrace the promise it held. With each passing door,
I caught glimpses of their numbered plaques thirty seven, thirty nine,
forty one, forty three. The numbers ascended, I found myself running.
Soon the blinding light soon seared through my closed eyelids,
the symphony of pain. Perhaps I should have gaged the
distance to the end, but in my blind pursuit, I
collided with the ending wall with a resounding thud. The
impact broke my nose, and I tumbled to the floor,
disoriented and wounded. As my body sprawled upon the ground,
the once illuminated candles in the hallway extinguished one by one,
enveloping the space behind me in an impenetrable darkness. Yet
amidst the obscurity, one candle remained, definally a flat. The
candle beside the door labeled one hundred and fifty eight.
His flickering glow drew my gaze, anchoring me to the
present candor. The word reverberated within the recess of my mind,
its significance echoing relentlessly, and then, like a distant echo
from the past, a strained and familiar voice permeated my thoughts.
Kill candle. It urged a haunting reminder of the encounters
I had faced. The voice bearing the same ragged quality
that has sent chills down my spine before emerged from
the darkness, piercing the silence with its command. A low,
ominous rumble stirred in the distance, the sound foreign and
unsettling to my ears. It started as a mere murmur,
fairly perceptible. We gradually swelled in volume, intensifying with each
passing moment. The air itself seemed to thicken and vibrate
with distraught energy, a growing force that quelled the surroundings.
I felt it from deep inside my being. It was
the sound of impending doom, a creeping darkness that threatened
to swallow everything in its path. As the rumble resonated
through the depths of my being, a profound distress began
growing within me. It crawled beneath my skin, coiling around
my muscles and sinew with a chilling grip. The sensation
of impending nothingness clawed at my very core, filling me
with a deep seated dread. It was a fear unlike
any I had ever experienced, a realization that I stood
at the precipice of an inevitable and irrevocable end. The
way of this knowledge settled heavily, with a visceral stap
of anxiety that sent tremors through me. The world around
me seemed to hold its breath, as if bracing for
the impending collision with an unimaginable force. I stood helplessly, transfixed,
caught between fight and flight the deer in headlights. The
rumbull grew louder, reverberating with the resonance that shook the
very fabric of reality, and it quivered under its weight.
With trembling hands, I clutched that the doorknob. My small
rattles quickly became me desperately trying to twist it open.
With the doorknob remained stubbornly locked. The rumbull grew louder
as the unstoppable force closed in on me. Panic searched
within me, causing me to frantically shake the door with
wild desperation. Still it resisted, unyielding to my futile attempts.
The feeling grew ever stronger, and I became ever more frantic.
I felt as though I fell into the quicksand of insanity.
Kill Candle, the words thundered in my mind, echoing over
the impending roar that threatened to consume me. It was
a command, a directive to extinguish the flame. In a
moment of clarity amidst the chaos, I realized what I
had to do. I reached out, smothered the candle's flame
with my bare hand, and at last the door swung open.
I was violently thrust forward, pulled into the void. The
deafening roar receded, replaced by a disorienting rush of motion
as I spun and failed completely at the mercy of
another unseen force, control slipped from my grasp once more,
leaving me to surrender to the unknown. As I flipped
and spun through the void once again, abruptly, the tumult ceased,
and I found myself standing outside my own home, as
real tableau frozen in time. There I witnessed the enigmatic moment,
a version of myself suspended mid swing, the axe poised
to strike the creature's neck. It was a fractured moment
of the reality I had left behind all that time ago,
a moment frozen in time and space. Taking a hesitant
stepped forward, I was abruptly hurled back into my embody,
the fragments of my existence reuniting time resumed its course,
and I felt the weight of the axe as it
carried out its intended purpose. The blade connected with a solid,
metallic impact, tearing a new rift in the fabric of reality.
I was again plunged into adjarrant darkness. The whirlwind of
confusion was the only thing familiar anymore. The musty scent
of familiarity, reminiscent of my high school days, filled the air,
punctuating the otherwise suffocating silence. In an instant, my vision returned,
this time with a disorienting rush, accompanied by dizzying vertigo.
I found myself standing in the classroom where my mother
used to teach, a place I hadn't set foot in
for years. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I turned my
gaze to the left, and there she was, my mother,
staring at me in disbelief. A collective gasp rose from
the student udence, their eyes fixed upon me with fear
and horror. The way to their stairs pressed upon me,
making me acutely aware of the unusual circumstances I found
myself in. I glanced at my feet in habitual embarrassment,
and there I noticed the axe embedded in the gas line,
emitting an ominous hiss that sliced through the thick silence.
My eyes darted back to my mother and on a
desk illuminated by a solitary burning candle. My gaze fixated.
The word echoed relentlessly in my mind, the significance growing
with each repetition. Candle, the candle, the candle. In a
reflex surge of urgency, I released my grip on the axe,
discarding any semblance of thought, and propelled myself toward the desk.
But my efforts were in vain. Where As my fingers
reached out, the catastrophic chain of events unfurled before me.
In an instant, the classroom irrupted in a fierce eruption
and inferno that devoured everything in its path. The sheer
force of the explosion shoot the very foundation of reality,
hurling me against the wall, my body crumbling behind a
nearby desk. Charred and broken, my form bore the scars
of the blast in my consciousness stubbornly clung on. I
felt pain unparalleled to any other I'd experienced so far.
Amid the chaos, I gathered myself and began to crawl
towards my mother's mangled figure. She lay there, torn asunder,
yet desperately still clinging to life with every ounce of
strength left in me. The painstakely dragged my injured body
toward her, My movements her testament to sheer determination. My
hand reached out, seeking connection, but instead encountered a severed limb. Undeterred,
I reached my mother, and she extended her remaining arm,
seizing my hand with a desperate grasp, a bond unbroken
even in the face of such devastation. Mom, I sobbed,
my voice choked with anguish tears streamed down my face
as I knelt over a broken form. Mom, I'm sorry,
I cried out, my words, punctuated by deep sobs. I'm
so sorry, mam. Her eyes met mine, and in that
delicate moment, she must have all she had to water
a sweet whisper I love you. She barely managed a
weak attempt at a smile, grazing her lips, but a
grip weakened, her hands slipped away, surrendering to the pull
of gravity. I collapsed once more, pressed my head against
a scorching shoulder of flames from her burning clothes licking,
and my tears soaked eyes. At that moment, the white
hot pain of loss eclipsed any physical pain I might
have felt. The realization struck with cruel clarity. I hadn't
succeeded in extinguishing the candle. I had failed, once again,
repeating the cycle with one hundred and fifty eighth time.
The weight of my failure bore down on me, crushing
my soul into a cloud of fine dust, to be
carried away with a health that consumed my surroundings. I
didn't deserve the reprieve of holding my mother. I needed
to escape from the desolation I had wrought. Crawling on
hands stained with the blood, I retreated to the corner
of the room, my arms hung limply at my side,
my body trembling with a mixture of guilt and revulsion.
I didn't want to touch anything, especially not myself. I
recoiled from my own skin, my hands the instrument of
a demise. I wanted to shed my skin as it
pressed this decrepit form even closer to my heart. I
killed my mom, I whispered the words, heavy with self condemnation.
I trembled, uncontrollably, consumed by my otherworldly screams of anguish
and sorrow that shattered the air. Suddenly, a voice pierced
the chaos from behind me. Hey, he yelled urgently, we
have to get out. There's a gas leak, and reached
out and grabbed mine. As I turned to face the source,
the jolt of recognition coursed through me. I was staring
at myself, another version of me, but younger. At that moment,
I realized with terror that I had become the embodiment
of the nightmares. I screamed a primal cry of disgust
and horror, forcing the other me to retreat in a
frightened flurry. Days have passed since then. After the younger
me fled, I was pulled back into our timeline, this
timeline for the final time. I hope my journey was enlightening, entertaining.
I hope you want stagnant as I did. And if
you ever find yourself stagnant, lacated, absent, and it's the
why that keeps you down, you should also ask yourself
why not? Your reasons just might be enough to move
forward again.