Disclaimer: I do not own FMA . . . kinda wish I did at times, though.
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Metronome.
Steady, beating, metronome.
Pulsation, sensation, incomprehension.
Then the clichéd:
'Where am I?'
Nowhere.
'Who am I?'
Nobody.
'What happened?'
Nothing.
Tawny eyes stared, stared into the same yellow that framed his face in long strands. Until they found an object to focus on did they become intelligent orbs able to grasp and comprehend what stood in front them. An obsidian monolith had appeared before his vision like vapor rising from a road. Chiseled into the block were creatures, some in the midst of crawling down pillars that were positioned on either side of a great, black door, others in the position to be holding a slab of rock up above the entry.
His arms felt numb; his legs, weak. An aura of calm, yet terrifying, tranquility surrounded him in suffocating peace and stillness.
The doors to the Great Gate opened and millions of childish eyes gazed into his, as innocent laughter filled the air around him. Lean, black arms shot out from the darkness surrounding the eyes. They wrapped around his limbs and, to his horror, began disintegrating them. More hands tightened around his mouth drowning out his hoarse screaming, transforming his unhealthy hyperventilation into even sharper, smaller, intakes of breath. He fought them, clawing at the misty, untouchable ground before him, to no avail. The black extremities had him right where they wanted him and had already begun to slowly drag him towards their sanctuary.
Fear dilated his eyes as he realized there was nothing more he could do, the arms were too strong; but even if they weren't their numbers would easily overwhelm him. He felt his pulse throbbing in his chest while memories of his short, dwindling life passed before his eyes. The hands had won, the Door closed; he was alone in the darkness, but he could still feel his heart:
Racing,
Palpitating,
Pounding,
Like a steady, beating metronome.
Fin.