Hello there!
Here's a non-canon story for you all to enjoy!
These little stories hopefully won't affect the story too much, so take this all with a grain of salt!
Thank you as always!
Oh god. I definitely fucked up...
Please NO.
In a desperate plea to stop the creeping Grey, which I named after that realm reappeared in my dream yesterday, I had asked Sayori to get me to say "Ow". After Natsuki slapped me, and her ignoring my attempts to apologize, the Grey started to ring in my ears and nibble at my limbs. As the minutes passed, the Grey began to slowly engulf me more and more.
A primordial fear took over me as I turned to see Sayori's face slowly fade into the Grey background, the numbed pain now just being replaced with the static feeling. In reflex, I tried to hyperfocus on something, ANYTHING to keep me grounded in this level of purgatory. I took to taking a look at a scribble of a bored student on the desk I was sitting at, my breath growing shallow as the air no longer entered my lungs. The thing that reassured that nothing was happening to me was the sound of slapping from something far away from my ears, albeit muffled.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.
FOCUS!
The Grey ate my hands and all sounds that came from the violence done to them.
JUST BE A STROKE, JUST BE A STROKE, JUST BE A STROKE.
STAY AWAKE!
Wishful thinking, but I bet I could tell if my vision was slumping away. Well... I couldn't tell if they were, but if that was the case: then we were good! I wasn't being deleted! However the subconscious jokes stopped working- panic now washing over me. In desperation to grasp on to the ephemeral effects that my thoughts had, I tried my newest trick:
MONIKA, MONIKA, MONIKA, Monika, moni-
In time, the blurring pulses and sounds of my thoughts faded much like how the scribbles on the desk left my vision- leaving me unable to hear, feel, or see anything but Grey. If I could feel my heart or hear my thoughts, I would probably be having a panic attack. This EXACT feeling was a fear of mine growing up, after discussing many philosophies and theorems with Vincent: I had grown to fear an infinity of nothing but consciousness. The ultimate punishment for any sentient being was being tossed alone into nothing but the finite expanse of their imagination. The human mind was fragile as it was creative, and an endless amount of time could create both endless dreams and endless nightmares.
And lately all that plagued me were nightmares and bitter memories.
Much akin to the Typewriter Monkey model of explaining the inevitability of infinity, a monkey could theoretically type letter-for-letter the entirety of known literature and written piece of works in existence- back to back in the chunk of completely random inputs as one smooth, uninterrupted string. Completely random inputs can, in infinite time with non-zero chance, occur. After all: multiplying anything by infinity that wasn't zero would just make infinity, except negatives that resulted in negative infinity. Despite the fact that, statistically speaking, something that is not 100% possible would never become a guarantee no matter how many times you repeated it, if one had infinite attempts then theoretically realizing such an impossibility was guaranteed.
The greatest bliss in which you could forget pain.
The greatest pain in which you could forget bliss.
The instinct to desire attention and socialization is no mistake. In much large part to natural selection: those who were able to socialize and stick together, back in the days of nothing but stones and stick, had access to a group who would give you food, shelter, care, and, most importantly, progeny which ensured that you and your offspring had the best chance of survival. That's why your hormones will SCREAM at you to socialize or find some sort of replacement for contact, in large part due to your body and mind having been optimized, for the now-innate desire for socialization. Thus it goes against all that is natural, mentally, physically, and spiritually, to be isolated. Even monks who go into supposed isolation have some sort of spiritual connection with whatever god or animistic being of the world to stave off those feelings of isolation. Even the clinically insane create avatars of madness to keep them company, an invisible friend to look to when running from the demons that were the government and spies.
But here?
No god.
No thoughts.
Nothing.
I had imagined that the worst variation of my fears would be an ever-consuming Black where you experienced and perceived Nothing. But this Grey was even worse: a cacophony of overstimulation that was infinitely worse than simply being deprived of contact. I couldn't hear my own thoughts, but they currently must have been something along the lines of thankful for the sickly sweet scent of chocolate on Sayori's breath and the subtle scent of lavender. The feeling of thankfulness, dread, and fear simultaneously put me at ease: knowing I was still cognizant.
And too soon even that faded away. So I had to focus even harder, in hopes that the simulation would still hold if I focused on the combined taste of proteins, acids, endotoxins, exotoxins, and carbohydrate groups from the microbiome in my saliva- the ones that formed biofilms on my teeth and enzymatically broke down the leftovers of lunch in my mouth. I couldn't imagine nor recall my lunch, I just knew it was something savory and umami, the Maillard reactions creating a unique spread of complementary flavors of sweetness to bitterness compared to the two main primary flavors.
However even hyperfocusing on that didn't stop it from fading as well, but I still grasped at the still faint flavors of before. I made as if I was eating an invisible piece of food and simultaneously licked my teeth. Though I couldn't feel my body perform those actions, the stirred taste in my mouth reassured me I was doing what I willed. But even that surrendered to Grey.
In the end perception has failed me.
At least I could sense fear.
Fear that control was slipping from me.
Fear that I was starting to feel apathetic.
Apathetic to the fear.
ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi
Something. Something. Something. Something. Something.
Something. Something. Something. Something. Something.
Something. Something. Something. Something. Something.
Something. Something. Something. Something. Something.
Something. Something. Something. Something. Something.
I...
I...
I...
...
I remembered everything that happened before I came too. But now I felt sweaty, but had no sweat to speak of. I couldn't see anything or feel anything, as if I static ran through me with the violence of a thousand amperes. But maybe I was sweating, who knows. Thinking back on it, I could see something, but it was like reading grey text in grey text: basically nothing...
I shake myself out of it, out of the memory of Grey. My head stung a little, recovering from the encroaching Grey... Though now, I was awake with all my senses back. Gathering and piecing myself together though, I notice three things:
1) I'm blind.
2) I taste cloth.
3) I'm tied up and seated on the ground.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
I listen for anything, but I don't hear anything but the sound of a fan far-off. I try to slide off whatever was blinding me with my shoulder but it just wouldn't budge. I bite down on the cloth and try the lacerate it, but it simply slides to match the motion of my teeth.
Shit.
Did they get me?
...
I smile a wistful smile. I was really going to miss the literature club, though I guess that was too good to be true. Despite all the existential threat and the enigma that was Monika's games, it was overall enjoyable.
Though I won't get to make-up with Natsuki...
Suddenly I hear the door open and the smell of chicken noodle soup is unmistakable. Though whatever footsteps I could hear walk away as the door closes behind them, the tray of food clanking at the force.
Shifting my feet below me, I lean forwards so that I'm sitting on my heels- my bound hands using their fingers to make sure my ass isn't touching ground. Using my near-numb legs I channel those years of squats to sit up, then re-shifting my weight, then standing straight up- though very unsteadily so.
Shuffling my way left away from the door, I slowly do so just in case I hit something, and as if on cue I hit a wall.
Wait. So close?
Fuck. This room is small.
A prison cell?
If that was the case, whatever hope I had was shattered. I was probably in some solitary cell or worse. Suddenly, a concert of strings start up, with me in the middle of it all as if I was a conductor. I slowly sit back as they roar to life, feeling something beneath my ass halfway to the floor.
A bed?
And just as suddenly I hear the familiar low sound of basses. I listen in on the basses, listening in on their melody.
C? A? F? G?
G Major? C Major?
I realized the basses played a countermelody that was soft and airy, giving way to the viola and cellos who were riffing on some familiar melody, but I couldn't remember the name of it. It was on the tip of my tongue, but the tremolo that the violins were holding weren't helping. Then a piano joins in.
Fuck! It's on the tip of my tongue!
Though...
...
Isn't there supposed to be singing?
The song felt empty without it. Odd. VERY odd. I could swear I never heard this song before but why could I remember singing?
Then the door opens again and the music stops. And I'm left with nothing but silence as muffled footfall makes its way towards me.
I stay silent.
It seems like so many minutes pass, but words still evade both of us.
If I wasn't blindfolded right now, I swear-
"What?" a familiar voice asks before I finishes.
I swear I wasn't talking out loud.
It's almost like they can read my mind.
"I know what you're thinking, and not because I can read minds. Your face says it all." I can hear the smile on their face.
Wait... Monika?
"It's all in your head. You're not really HERE per se."
What?
A few uncomfortable silent seconds follow before she pats my cheek.
"Open your eyes."
I open my eyes and I see I'm still in the clubroom, Sayori stretching my hands at the palm, Monika sat at the desk as usual, Natsuki nowhere to be seen, and Yuri was out of my neck's range of motion.
What?
"I just thought you needed some company is all." she says, placing her hand on my chest. However it's not touch I feel, I feel Grey. I try not to react, but she instead sighs. "I really wanted to apologize..."
I stay silent for a moment, hoping she would start, but she doesn't.
You've got a captive audience of one here.
Monika giggles, as I hear the bed to my right shuffle. In my vision I see the Monika reading papers smile brightly.
"Thanks." I hear the bed shuffle as if she turned to me. "But I don't know... what I've been doing, you know? It all seems so foreign to me."
Foreign?
"Well 'foreign' is not the right word. It's just that it's not what I expected you know?"
I did not bother to think something here. She really seemed to be reading my thoughts. She giggles again, as the Monika at the desk seems to tilt her head in confusion at one of the papers.
"Now you've got me curious."
Curious?
"Most would feel pity, fear, or even love after all. That's how everyone at school feels..."
Not your first rodeo?
Wait. Yeah, I'm dumb. It ain't.
Wait. You can read my mind!
I scold and beat myself up.
I sound pretty stupid.
Maybe I should test it?
Though that song was really pretty.
...
...
Fuck it: Did you write it?
She laughs, and I feel her head against her shoulder, her ponytail sliding atop my back.
Wait... Can you really read my mind?
"Thanks Himura... Though, I wonder what really is going on in your head."
I hope you're not choosing to ignore me to fuck with me.
REALLY selling the point that it's all in my head.
We stay silent for a few minutes as I watch the world around me continue. I'm stuck here tied up and the girls are oblivious to the whims of my kidnapper.
"I brought chicken noodle soup for you to eat," she says, her voice dripping in joy and kindness. A pair I never thought she would show me. "Here, let me..."
She undoes my gag and unties my wrists. I swear I had to fight the urge to choke her and escape from this hell hole, but if she was right and this was all in my head: I had to uphold some sort of morals in my own head. I hear her get up and retrieve the tray, setting it down on my lap. Not like I could see, as if I tried to focus on whatever dimension I was in, I remember that I'm FUCKING BLINDFOLDED.
"Bye for now!" she calls, already having stood up and opened the door. I simply didn't respond as I heard her giggle and close the door. Having nothing better to do, I felt for the spoon and watched as my hand turned red and white under Sayori's assault. Soon enough I find the spoon and bring the bowl closer to my mouth and eat. Monika in the clubroom is swaying her head side to side like a metronome. I can't help but sigh at my misfortune.
Minutes pass and the soup seems to never end, but soon my vision turns Grey once more...
