Down in the Dark
Written by Mugen7
"It all fades away in the end." – Anonymous.
…
Somewhere, lost in the endless sea of black, a lone light shone...
A weak light, humanoid in shape... That, of a soul.
A poor, damaged soul that floats waywardly – animate by an unseen current.
'Where... am I?' it knows not of how it came to appear in the boundless space, only that it is here.
An omnipresent, abyssal black space.
'Who... am I?' A sharp pang enters its being, hurting the spirit alongside an immense pressure that forces itself upon it.
It yearns for a sense of know-how.
"_ on'_ d_e!" says a voice passing through the darkness.
'Who's there...?' The soul calls out.
"Don't die!" The voices speaks again; words clear. A voice belonging to that of a child, filled with grief.
'Who's dying...?' The soul is confused. To whom does the voice speak to, it wonders... It longs for interaction.
"_ _ _ _ _ _ _!"
'… What?' Another voice travels by.
"_ _ o _ _ er!" A repeated word spoken at a very low sound; difficult to understand and seeming ever so far away.
While the word is lost to it, the soul senses something, deep...
A strong emotion...
Sadness.
'Why...?' This foreign, yet oddly familiar feeling warms it. Retracting heat from incorporeal "limbs" the heat is focused at its centre - "arms" and "legs" left cold.
'Why... am I sad?' It asks itself; query unanswered as the heat spreads to its "head".
"It's nice of you to watch over them," a new voice enters, "but you mustn't neglect yourself, okay?"
It is a kind voice. One that is soft, and, pleasant. Feminine. It relieves the soul but, hearing Her voice adds more to the hurt.
Upset, the sadness is inflamed further.
Another fit of familiarity sinks into the ailing force of life as it recalls; a grieving rush of foreboding culminates. Something befalls Her, it just can't determine "what" that something is however.
'Why can't I remember?' It expresses annoyance. Ignorance, truly an irritant.
… One after another, voices and facts come and go like a passing wind. They converge and scatter in varied tones and volumes, a dissonance of quotes and details – some broken, some whole – both confusing and restoring a modicum of realization in the chasm of its psyche. Though the influx grows strenuous; the soul starts to feel like its whittled existence is being crushed and broken apart under the enormous weight of words and letters – a toll to endure along with the weight of the abyss.
("R_ _ _ _ _økkr.")
…
"Gate..."
…
("B_u_.")
…
'S-stop...'
"But I wanted to be with you."
…
("R_ _ _ _ _ök.")
…
"Origin..."
Every sentence was a trigger for a buried emotion to rise.
"You haven't changed at all."
…
("_ _ rk _ n _.")
…
'I said stop...!' The yellowed orange of heat and sadness darkens.
"… How strangely appropriate."
'Shut up!' Mockery and evaluation were a blight to its stability.
"Don't hurt him!"
…
"_ ou _ d _ry."
…
("_ e_ _ hr.")
…
'Stop... talking!' A shift in temperature and palpitation – heat cooling and tremors reducing minutely before the darkened colourations returned and deepened to a burnt shade. The poundage of words, characters and blackness becoming harder to withstand.
"What are you afraid of?"
…
("The Root…")
…
'I'm not afraid!"
"What a cocky creature you are."
…
("B_a_k _e_s_.")
…
'Get lost!' It wounds itself; form blackening from the uproar and swell of anger.
"It's all your fault."
…
("Apocalypse!")
…
'I didn't do anything!"
"Pitiful!"
…
("C_i_d _f _u_(Ep)_e_-(si)-_i(lon)_e.")
…
'To hell with you!' Hatred cracks through the soul's fragility.
"Your screams sound good!"
…
("Welcome to Nightmare!")
…
'Get away!'
"Wish I had more time to play with ya."
'GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!'
"AHAHAHAHAH!"
'LEAVE ME ALOOOOONE!"
.
.
.
.
All becomes quiet... Silence deafening, as it were.
Voices, letters and locutions; their absence registers, and the violent swell inside itself ebbs away, it's form cooling down. But the damage has been done. The soul is weaker; much, much weaker now. Vital force exhausted from overheating – frail "body" unable to bear the anger and anxiety that advanced to dangerous heights that it fissured the spiritual mass and broke through.
…
All is quiet.
Darkness... a soundless confidant.
'... Tired...' It desires rest, to be left undisturbed.
"Hahahahah!"
However...
'W-who...!?' Desires... aren't always heard.
The soul careens, going fetal as the immense pressure of the black space overwhelms it again – a shrill of childlike laughter eddying around the broken spirit, closing in tight.
"It felt good… didn't it?" sickeningly sweet and imposing.
'No...' Snarling, reflexively troubled by the voice.
"Taking advantage of me? 'Devouring' me?"
'… You're wrong!' It denies.
"So aggressive... You held nothing back."
'You're wrong!'
"You–"
'I SAID YOU'RE WRONG!'
The longer the voice talks, the more of its origin becomes abundantly clear to the soul.
"You can't change a thing~" it sang, taunting the spirit. "Nothing. At. All."
'JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!' On and on the guileless voice went, poisonous words stabbing to the core.
"It ends the same way every time."
The soul breaks form and lashes out, "arms" swinging wildly; actions amounting to nothing.
"You."
'Shut up!'
"In."
'Shut. Up!'
"My…"
'Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT. UP!'
Round and around and around and around it goes, thrashing in the pitch black space wherever the voice sounds most potent, wasted movements sapping more of the harrowed soul's energy.
Motions soon turning sluggish, it exposes itself that much more to the all-encompassing density.
Petrified.
"Hmhmhmhmhm~!" It was everywhere, giggling.
Midst of its being, tensions start developing. Hot, bilious, churning.
"Hmhmhmhmhm~!"
Closer...
"Hmhmhmhmhm!~"
Closer...
"Hmhmhmhmhm~!"
Closer...
Again and again and again, the voice snickers – enunciations crawling-itching-wafting-cuffing-DRIVING... into "flesh".
Butting suppression, it searches...
Searching...
Searching...
And searching... until...
"Arms!" A face appears, shocking the soul.
A particular, smiling, face...
'Y-you!'
Once a face capable of fermenting vinous rage from within to explode...
"Come…"
Now caused a cold white fear to try and freeze the soul over.
"Let's be together." Arms, slim and pale, with dainty fingers, stretched out – the proclivity of the figure's desire fearfully known.
'S-stay away!' The soul cries.
"Come… Let's be together."
'I said stay away!' Panic-stricken, a tumultuous wave of willpower to resist the all-round density struck out, driving the soul to fend off the figure.
"Come… Let's be together." the figure draws eerily closer...
'DON'T TOUCH ME!' The soul's "arm" hits the figure...
Except, it doesn't connect.
It passes straight through.
'W-what...!?'
"Come…," wide and sunken, and hollow bottomless orifices stare at soul strongly. "Let's be together." Observantly taking notice of its vivid anxiety with an overstretched crescent smile.
'No-GET AWAY!'
"Come… Let's be together."
On and on and again and again and again and again and AGAIN...
the portentous form recycles their words; an appalling loop of enthusiasm.
"Come… Let's be together."
Powerless to forge a distance.
"Come… Let's be together."
Powerless to escape.
"Come… Let's be together."
Powerless to repel the one whose stone white hands touched it.
'GET OFF!' Voice ripping through with a blood-curdling cry as the figure's existence began to encroach upon the soul's being.
The remains of the soul's diminished vitality is siphoned off. Thick and oppressive is the black film that materializes and snakes from stone white fingertips, ensnaring the soul inch-by-inch... at a terrifyingly. Smooth. Pace.
'LET... L-let me... go!' its dulling light dies and wanes some more. 'I...,' more and more, 'don't want... this...!' An ill-omened recollection rakes its psyche.
'I...' Information; a striking image breaching the surface layer of consciousness.
"Come… Let's be together."
Lofty and malevolent.
'Please...,' suffocating.
"Let's be together." Face never changing.
'don't...,' fading, 'do... this...,' fading, 'to... me.'
"Let's be together."
Fading...
'S-some... one...'
Fading...
'_ _ease...'
Fading...
"Let's be together."
Fading...
'_e-... _elp... _e.' Whispered pleas cease into nothingness, and feeling is lost. The last nuance of the soul's spiritual glow nearly... extinguished.
A miniscule flicker straining to stay put till it could go on...
No longer.
.
.
.
.
.
"… You truly are… a helpless fool."
To be continued...