The hospital is all white. Nurses fill the rooms as doctors treat their patients every day. Sometimes successfully, and sometimes to no avail.
The beeps are a regular sound, the sound of a heart beating,
the sound of life
Making themselves known in the hospital and to all its occupants, as they have through all time.
As has the occasional beepbeepbeep which signals the patient standing on the border of life and death.
And the even more rare flatline sound that signals the patient crossing the border to death.
Indeed, in the hospital, fates are written, and man has the luxury of holding the lives of other men in his palms.
Isn't it nice that it is our favorite siblings' turn to be at the mercy of these men, those "doctors?"
Indeed it is. We will watch them all for our "pleasure" and sadness. But that's what this story is about, isn't it?
And through the hospital door, burst onto the scene a group of doctors and nurses, sweating and running as of there was no tomorrow and they have a good reason to be that way, for they were pulling two stretchers beside them.
In front and behind
A boy and a girl.
Torsos and a neck covered in bandages.
Sunny and Mari.
Their stretchers were carried and carried and carried, and the men and woman continued to run.
"GO-GO-GO" was their rallying cry. A call to move forward.
And they went the fastest they could until they reached their destinations.
Room 143 for the girl
Room 156 for the boy.
And today, we follow the boy, and all his struggles, both in this reality and beyond.
And his stretcher, indeed, finally got to the room and was slowly positioned in the center of it.
The doctors moved in, ready to treat the patient.
There was worry, as the paramedics moved to the hospital, that the only 12-year-old patient lost too much blood. Fears that were realized when the doctors checked on him.
When the knife was removed.
When the bleeding was stopped.
When the injury was identified.
When the antibiotics were put on.
And when they tried to reconstruct the wound.
Some of the doctors left to inform the patient's friends and family of the condition.
They asked them if they could give a blood transfusion, and the patient's father agreed.
And so here he was, going towards his son's room while the men in white robes worked to save his life.
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And speaking of fathers.
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The story of Sunny and Mari has interested many people across the world.
Maybe not as much as other stories, and some will complain about the flaws, which to some the story has none but to others a lot.
But there is no doubt that the story is a tragedy and that it has a message that should be taught to kids across the world.
But how is it that such a story came to pass? How were the characters shaped in such a way that allowed for such a tragedy to occur?
Well, dear viewer, to answer such questions, we ultimately must look at the people who raised Sunny and Mari in the first place.
For it is said that children are shaped by their parents' treatment of them.
And for these children, their treatment led them to who they were as people.
Why they were now in a hospital together.
And for this, ladies and gentlemen, we must present to you the offenders:
Seiji and Amelia Suzuki
And this jury, you, the audience, shall hear and read the evidence in front of us. And give your verdicts.
And I will be the judge and executioner.
We shall start with one Seiji Suzuki.
A quiet but still unpleasant man.
He grew up in a family that demanded respect and greatness. Where no humiliation could be found.
His mother, a housewife, a poor woman from the edges of rural Hokkaido, no power in the household, as was the culture these days.
His father, no one liked him. A brutish and ruthless man, he saw shame as more dangerous than death itself. And any sort of shame, he made sure would not be present in his family.
Even if he died alone.
Even if no one mourned him at his funeral.
A family of great achievers.
A family of soulless rats. Unloving and lonely.
And Seiji, too, walked across the road of his ancestors, now ashes scattered in the heartless sea.
He paid all his time into work
work
work
work
And Amelia, she had a lower social standing. She was a daughter of a normal American family.
The typical American family, one idolized, one you would find in most American movies about them.
The working father and the housewife mother.
She was the only daughter and the one thing she wanted the most in the world
was money .
Money made her family after all, and after finishing university, she came to work and make a living. And a good house...and the parties.
She wanted a husband too, most of all, and to have a beautiful family, and a handsome man by her side, and to die old and happy with grandchildren surrounding her.
By all accounts, she was just a normal woman.
A normal woman, who just so happened to fall in love with a Japanese man in a higher social class than her.
And so Seiji married his wife, Amelia, for pure love...and for the money, in the latter's case.
And soon, she bore him two children.
One, a girl, and three years later, one, a boy.
Mari and Sunny.
They grew up, had friends, and loved each other.
All the while, both parents simply worked, barely being for them.
Of course, when they were there, the father would push great expectations onto his children, like so many of his ancestors did before him.
Mari needed to be perfect, so he focused on her to be perfect at everything.
Sunny needed to be perfect, so he focused on him to be perfect at everything.
For the former, it worked.
For the latter, it was going to work.
But alas, the one thing the parents didn't count on was that generations indeed could be different.
For time is eternal, but things are destined to change regardless.
Evil will exist in a family that had none, just like the opposite is true.
Poor will become rich, and rich will become poor.
And customs and civilizations will live on until they die, and nothing beside will remain of them except the decay of their statues, those colossal wrecks, boundless and bare.
It doesn't matter that it will take one year, or several, or a century, or a millennium.
Inevitably, everything changes.
And so, here we are. We see now the fruits of their labor.
They see now, as they were driving to the Suzuki household.
Two stretchers, their friends are there too. All shock and tears.
One carrying a 15-year-old girl with burn marks clear on her neck.
Another carrying a younger boy, a bloodied knife coming out of his chest
Sent into the ambulance.
All the way to the Faraway Hospital, where dreams and nightmares alike come true.
They are shocked, just as you are now.
What happened to their poor children, they think.
How could it have led to this? All this?
But luckily, we know the true answer.
And deep inside, they knew too.
They never checked.
They only worked, and let their friends handle it all.
Literal children.
But, alas, they still must continue to work.
They can't just, I don't know, quit.
That lifestyle has succeeded before.
And it will succeed later, right?
They only have to care for their children now and try a little bit harder later.
After all, they are not that different.
Which is why Sunny's father came that day
at that cold and old hospital.
And when the doctors told him of his failures
He chose to repent.
As all God's children do after the influence of sin.
Still not being able to see his son's bloodied body.
But is it enough, though?
And there you have it, all the evidence presented to you.
And we all know the verdict.
So, Amelia and Seiji Suzuki
This court has found you guilty
And what will be the sentence?
We shall see.
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"I'm so sorry"
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SLASH
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Whiteness
Pure Whiteness
Only white and nothing in it.
That was the only thing Sunny saw after going out of consciousness
He could only remember tidbits of the past. Tidbits of the push, the crash, the rope, the raspy voice of his sister, attempting to speak a single word, whilst her vocal cords were constrained by the wrapping of Basil's wisdom.
Such small tidbits that you would almost think it was all a dream...
Wait, what were those memories, Sunny thought, he needed to be focused on now, instead of the supposed past.
And now he was in a pure white space with nothing in it.
Well, actually there was something on it, like, say, a black lightbulb swaying on the roof.
What the hell was he going to do here?
Wait, can he just make up things?
Sure, he doesn't know where he is. Maybe he is in his own mind, maybe in Purgatory.
But that was the only thing he could do.
Alright, Sunny thought, think of something. Something like...
POP
Out of nowhere, in the middle of White Space, appeared a laptop, sitting on the floor and colored with a smooth and silky black color, in contrast to the perpetual whiteness surrounding it.
Wait, if he can do that, can he think of making other things.
And so satisfied with the results, Sunny decides to think of other things to accompany his laptop.
Hmm, how about...a sketchbook. Sunny always drew in it when he had free time.
He thinks about it and...
POP
Like the laptop, it too appeared out of nowhere, laying on the floor with its empty page open, ready for duty.
Sunny was amazed by his ability. It seemed like he was able to do anything with his imagination, that he was the master of this world, this whiteness in which anything could be made on it.
He continued to imagine many things with which he could be able to spend time with.
A tissue box
Mewo
And a dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-
.
.
.
Suddenly, a single door appears far from Sunny and his collection.
A door was painted white and closed, 62 75 74 20 73 6f 6d 65 74 68 69 6e 67 20 77 61 73 20 77 72 6f 6e 67 20 77 69 74 68 20 69 74 0d 0a.
It was mysterious, 69 74 73 20 61 75 72 61 20 77 61 73 20 77 65 6c 6c 20 68 69 64 64 65 6e 2c 20 6c 69 6b 65 20 6f 75 74 73 69 64 65 20 6f 66 20 69 74 2c 20 74 68 65 72 65 20 77 61 73 20 73 6f 6d 65 20 73 65 63 72 65 74 20 77 6f 72 6c 64 20 77 61 69 74 69 6e 67 20 74 6f 20 62 65 20 64 69 73 63 6f 76 65 72 65 64 2e 0d 0a
Sunny saw the door right away, a sudden sight.
He did not expect this. He was thinking only of other things, not a door.
It appeared on its own, then...
Sunny was scared beyond all belief. The fact that there was something else in the white space. Something too affecting this world.
And he did not know who it was or what it was.
He could not see it. And that was what Sunny feared the most.
He just stood there, daring not to move towards the white door. Sitting down so in the vain chance of trying to make the process of walking toward it harder in any case he even remotely gravitated to the door.
He was that terrified of it.
So why was it that the door was slowly becoming more and more...attractive to him.
He could hear a voice. A voice deep inside his head, one that promised him greatness and wonders behind that door.
A world of many colors, of his friends waiting for him, of many endearing adventures.
And that voice. It grew stronger and stronger, with each passing second. As Sunny slowly stood up and tried to make his way up to the door. He attempted to resist, as he promised himself to.
But there was no stopping the voice.
There was no stopping him.
„Jvtl vu, Zbuuf," ol zhpk, „Vwlu pa, vwlu aol whaodhf av bavwph."
The voice grew stronger, placating Sunny with such promises of greatness.
It could not be resisted.
And so Sunny went up to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob. He slowly opened it, thinking of all things that could be behind the white entrance.
And what he found...
was black.
All blackness.
Sunny was confused. Didn't the voice promise him something el-
BLAAAAST
SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-
Suddenly, a large blasting sound sent Sunny across the room, crashing him towards the floor across his collection.
Sunny felt as if this black space was sucking everything on his white place, getting them closer and closer to the abyss itself.
That was until he realized that while regaining his sense of consciousness, he felt the cracks in the floor forming getting larger and larger.
And a horrifying realization came into his mind.
The Abyss wasn't sucking White Space.
White Space was sucking the Abyss.
And before he knew it, a black color started to spread across the room, from the door and from the cracks below.
Almost like a liquid pouring into a cup.
Everything was consumed by it, even the things Sunny wished of having. The laptop, the sketchbook, the tissue box.
Even Mewo was trying to get from it as fast as possible, before getting consumed by the liquid too, trying desperately to escape it. Yelping for help and mercy from God.
A mercy that never came.
Sunny too, tried to escape from it, running from the approaching mass, as fast as possible and for his life.
But he was too late.
The floor collapsed beneath him, the black mass swallowing him whole as he fell down and down and down.
There was only darkness, he could not see anything.
And yet he felt the undetectable stones hitting his body, making a thousand cracks. Every single one he felt.
On his neck
On his legs.
On his arms
Everywhere
And every single one together gave off the most painful feeling he ever felt in his life.
crack
Crack
CRACK
CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK
THUD
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For a moment, it seemed as if time stopped. No sound was heard.
All light was snuffed out.
And as before God created the heavens and earth in six days and then established Himself above the Throne. There was nothing. Just a quiet nothingness.
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But there was something.
In the all-consuming darkness, the light formed. Light from the only thing that survived The Abyss.
The lightbulb.
And showing off on the light, there was Sunny. Broken, bruised, and unconscious.
And unconscious he was no longer.
His eyes slowly opened to see the light penetrating them, the small wire in his black lightbulb reverberated across his eyes, whenever he closed them.
Getting up from the ground, he only saw it and the surrounding darkness. Black. All black. Black as ink. As the night sky itself.
He looked all over and saw nothing.
But he didn't have to.
„Fo-o-ol, don't you realize what you have done." a voice suddenly sprang into life. That lively voice was the scariest one Sunny had ever heard. Far scarier than any voice those strangers Mom warned him about had.
A distorted voice, taking the sounds of his friends and corrupting them in ways only a demon could be able to, if that thing actually is a demon.
„You created this, didn't you. This figment of your admittedly great imagination, this „White Space," to run away from your problems.
But, I'm very very sorry, but you can't escape the past forever. You cannot escape your mistakes, you cannot escape the consequences of your actions, and most importantly
You will never escape YOURSELF ."
Suddenly, across the black walls flew memories. Memories of recital practice, memories of the argument.
The push
The crash
Those calls to wake up
The Stranger
The Rope.
He remembered
He remembered everything .
Those mistakes he made.
The sister he killed.
His head was clutched by his hands. His eyes were all red.
What had he done?
WHAT HAD HE DO-
„S..u..n..n..y.."
He flinched back at the voice. A distortion. Its raspiness made his heart sink as if those memories weren't enough.
But all of that was nothing compared to the feeling of dread and guilt that rose
When he saw it.
The body
A rope coming out of her head
Mari's body
„S..u..n..n..y.."
He heard it, the distortion
Of Mari's voice
The portrait multiplied, more and more and more, engulfing the entire room.
All he saw were the pictures of that body, swaying in the wind
And there, he saw the most terrifying sight he ever saw in his life.
An eye
Unblinking
Staring right into his soul.
„Look, Sunny, look at me. Look at what you've done to MEEEEEEEEEE!"
At once, the portraits were all deformed. Their bodies faded away into nonexistence as the background turned all black.
And in their place,
came Something
Thousands of eyes rotated around him. Every single one were all the same.
That iris. All black like the void. The white surrounding it. Making the eye as wide as the once marvelous Titanic. They haunted Sunny, haunted him for all time.
And as he stared into the void.
The void stared at him
And spoke with the voices of those old memories:
„Do you not see what you have done. Don't dare blame the Stranger for this, for you stood by and let it happen. You might as well have been the one who put that rope on her neck."
The voice said in a confident, yet menacing tone, like an elder, would say to his village men. And Sunny could only listen as it continued on.
„She just wanted to play. That recital was important to both you and her."
„You deserved every insult. Those bleeding fingers aren't made of your hard work."
„They are made of your incompetency."
„You should have persisted. The pain is part of the practice. Yet you were too weak. Too useless for an amazing sister like her."
„She was better than you in every way."
„And, you killed her."
„You loved her and you killed her"
Suddenly, Sunny saw thick black air combining, almost dancing and merging together. It formed into a mass, before finally blossoming and appearing to Sunny with a smile, as:
Aubrey
„Aubrey loved her, and you killed her"
Basil
„Basil loved her, and you killed her"
Kel
„Kel loved her, and you killed her"
Hero
„Hero loved her, and you killed her."
Darkness
„SHE loved you, and you KILLED her."
And at once, a dark and gruesome sight appeared in front of the boy. Hidden behind darkness...
But the boy could see who it really was
These almost invisible clenched fists.
That darkish-grey color
That shining eye
That shining eye
That shining eye
Mari
There was silence, and fear.
And the iris moved.
„You...YOU!"
Anger released
„ YOU KILLED ME "
And anger struck.
All at once, Mari jumped at Sunny at a striking speed. He could only see her angry groan as he felt her nails dig into his neck. The pain from that was subsided by her frequent punches, her fists left bruise after bruise on his face, as she sought to take the everlasting life out of her murderer she once called her little brother, vcly hu hjjpklua zol dhz myhuapjhssf klufpun av olyzlsm pa dhz.
The pain continued on and on and on , as he felt life slipping away from his body, much like what happened to his vengeful sister.
She continued on
„AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU!"
And on
„YOU REPAY ME LIKE THAT, YOU DISGUSTING PARASITE!"
And on
„I WISH YOU NEVER BO- A̸͕̤͛̅̈́̆̃̍͝Ǟ̷̺̠͌̄́̀͜À̵̙̣̭͙̫̤̣͇̲͖̼̓̐̂̋̏͒̏̉̓̈́͝Ã̸̢̛̜͔̞̱̅̔̀̑͊̊̾̑͜Ą̸̣͍͎̜̳̞͔̐̑͗̿͋̿͂͂͌͌̓̀͂͠A̸̧̝̱̙͙̝̘̙͙̖̠̳͑̿͋̈̂Ā̸̰̃͌̋̓̎͋̍̋͑̚͝͝Ả̸̡̦͕̯Ą̴͕̞͍̱̻̞̜͚̘͎͎̬̮͋́͋̇́̆A̴̳̜̻͚͖̘̺͔̞̯̗͙̔͘Ä̵̛̭͖̻̫̬͆̾̍̌̿́̋̐͘A̴̫̤̖̼̼̗̲̟͔͓͇̤͔̞̽A̴̙̖̝̐̍Á̵̡͉̝͕̟̯̟͙͇͈̒̓̈́̐̈́͜A̴̢̡̛̟͓̹͖͇͎̅͗̀͝A̶͔̼̫̹̠̦̔́͗͆͛̏̎̊̓̃̒̂͝͠A̸̢̛͈̮̲͉̹͙̣͕͐͋̑̌͋̎́̃̐̐̇̀͘̕A̴̡͈̫̭͔̞͓̘͛̇̀̚A̴̡͉͎̙͕̱̬͚̿͗̿͗̏̓̌͑̈́͘͝H̷̡͈̯̼̟̞̫͎̏̊̈́̽̅́̓̓͘͝Ḥ̸̛̾͆͑̾̀̌͊̀Ḥ̶͕̠̳̘̰̣͍̯̐͆̀̽̽̈́͂͊̏̒̐͒͂Ĥ̶͇̑͒̔̊̂̅͑͂͠H̴̫̜̜̬͚̼̤̟̳̘͑̈́̚H̷̢͎͇͔̬͍͚̗͖̣̩͑̾̓͆̚͠H̷̡̡̙͕̩͖̮͔̳̤̉̽͌̎͜͝H̸̨̨̧̲̫͚̺̝̘̝͆̎̓̂͆̈́͑H̴̡̡͔̳̘̫̰͉͙͈̲͐̒̿͛̎͊̉͑͒̌̚͝ͅḨ̶̧̲̱̘̼̞̠̣̫͎̫̗̻̅͂͜͝͠Ḫ̴͎̠̱̏̀͌͗̐̂͒̊̽̅̅͠H̷̨͖̩̦͚͍̩͌̀̈́̀̂̋Ḩ̴̨̳͕̫͇͖͍͝Ȟ̷͚̓͒̈͗̈́̓̏̀͠͝H̴̡͉̖̞̠̯̓̽͂̉̑͜͝͠Ȟ̵̥͓̹͑̉̈́̉̊́͊͂͋̏͛̚͜H̸̺͒́̈́H̵̢͍̖̞̦̳̃̅̄̀͋̾̏͜͠H̶̨͍̦̹̰̭̖̊̾̎̋̏̈́͛͘H̶̰̳̫̅͑̽̉͒̂̕H̴͉͍̺̱̔̌̍̆̓̓̃͐̈́̒̉̽̊̿H̸̜͓̞͈̖̬̻̖͖͆͋̌̇́̔͗̍̊̀̽̄͌H̵̱̺͖̲̦̬͖̻̏̇̈̇͗́̈́͑͐͘̕H̷̨̝̰͕̰̽̾̄̌̆̾̀͊̀͘͘Ĥ̶̢̬̰͎̬̗̈́͊̏́H̷̡̡̯͓̗̭̩̻̬͔͑͜H̷̫̰͙͈̘̰̫̲͙̲͚̺̭̀̒̋͂̀̋͒̃͘͜͝H̶̨̫͓̤̫̭͕̪͕̍̏͒̄͌̾̊̀͂͝H̸̛̜̹̯͛̾̑͌̈́̑̑̉̒̉̀̄̕͠H̴̢͓̣̩̠̳̹̜̫̼̠̎̃̀͛̈́̓̂̌̂̈́͂̎͐̐̕ͅḨ̸͉͚̤̬̼͈̬̈Ḧ̸͇͎̦̮́͆̒͛̇̆̽̓̅͗̀͒̚̚͘H̷̛̭̗̻̖̺̻͔͇̰̙̰͉̬̎̽̾̎̒̆̃̐̂͘H̷̜̬͙̯͖͇̐͛̽̒̓̌̍̀̓H̵̡̧̧͔̰̜̯͙̞͇͍̖̏́͑̽̈́̂̀̅͂̚H̴̨͈̥̥̞͎͖̦̬̭̀͒̽̉̓̿͐̌͋̏̕Ḩ̷̢̞̘̌̿̐̒́̔͐͌́̑͐̕͘͝H̶̡̜̰̙͎͚̯̥̞̙̪̤̥̙͈͋́̋̍́̃̈́͒͂̕͝H̸̦̳͉̹̱͒͛̀͂͋̋̑̆͂̅̐̀̔͊͝H̶̛̺͇̪̘͙̪̱͆̈́̾́̍͘H̸̨̙͇͕̖͓͉̰̝̞́͒͆̽̑̉̑͐͗͋́̍̕͜͝ͅH̸͔̪͈̞́̍͘H̴̱̥̖͙̺͈̮͈̗̙̲̗̅͋͗̀̇̍́̓̈́̐̌̎̕̚H̷̢̙̮̤͎̪̯̣͈́̋̅́̚Ḩ̵͈̗͎̻̞̪͉̦̝̩͖̺̀͋̔͂́̈́͋̚H̷̗̎̓̔̌͑͛͗͌̍̄̈́̆̽̅Ḩ̶̙̫̓̀́̐͑̈̏̀͂̅̚H̶̨͖̻̩̻͓͇̩̹͐̿̆͘H̴̭̙̆̋͗͂͌̾͊͂̈̑͂́̚H̷̛̟̭̳͔̿̋̐́̎̄̆̌͋̎̅̕͜͠͠ͅH̶͕̣͓͎͉̠̝̓͒̎̏͋̅̿͐͐̒̈̌͌͘͝ͅḨ̶̔̆H̷̗͓̩̬̗̗̱̏̕H̷̛̦̜̙̟͔̃̄͘ͅḨ̵͖͚̫͙̤͈̪͉̟̥̖̑̈́̔̂̄̊́̃̌̀̂̈́͘͜ͅH̴̢͓̝͉̗͔͈̝͍͈͔̓̓̓͐̋͒̂́͘H̷̢̩͕̼̮̲̝̩̗̠̱͗̌͂̚͜H̵̹͎̣̝̼̋̌̒͂̎͛̔͊Ḩ̶̡̜͚͓̟̠̮̱̜͊͊̐̿͒̓̓̈́̏͂͆͠H̶̢̢̛̙͈̗̬̹͇̺̠̭̱̄̀̌́̓̕Ĥ̴͓̙̤̗͓̦̱̙̪̝̖͍͆͛͆̋͑̿̀̌̑̐̈̃̚͝H̸̡̲͖̱̦̮̦͉͍̩͇̗̞̑̕ͅH̴͈̟͉̪̫̍͋͋̊̈̊̓̅̽̓̃̔̕̕͜Ḧ̴͉̠͓̪̘͈͔͔͙̠͈̗͈͇́̋͂̇̕H̴̛̛̖͍̩͎̙̿̿̊̄̓̇̃͘Ḩ̸̲̫̖͙̞̠̯̦̒̓̃͊͒̓̍͗̀͑̿̐͜͝͠H̶̢̢̡̝̺̳̭̞̰̙̮̙̠͌́͒̀̑͗̎H̶̢̱̘̞͎̤̟̯͕̱̳̼͔̟͓̄͋͊̓̏̑̉̀̃̔̾͌͗Ḥ̸̛͍̖̹̝̰͕̀̈́̒̿́̽̃̓̊͂̔̈́͠͠Ḫ̶̙̞̟̳̬̝̯̇̇̀͋̐̇͒̎̎͗̒͘̚͠H̴̪̥̫̪͖̟̮̹̟͈̪̰̳͂̒͒̊̍̀̈́̋̀͗̊͜͝H̶̨̺̘̬̙̟̜͖͊͊̐̉̑͘̚̚͘͜͠͠H̸̢̞̪̒̈̈́̐͌̈̒͂̂̋͘̕H̷̥̤̣̻̟͓̓̀͋̈́̒̋̉͆̔͒̌̅͒͌̚Ḩ̴̱̟̝͎̗̥̝̠̩̘̯̦͙͍͐́̄͐͑̎͠Ḧ̵̺͈̝̖̭͕̻̙̱̬̫́Ḩ̶̢̧̗̜̟̣̞̝̓̔̉̉͆̑͑̎͂͑́̍H̴̛͖̞̭̯͉̜̮͖̯̺̖̬̹̃̄͗̑̍̈͘Ḩ̷̘̰̹̮̞̲̥͙̜̱̺͇̲͋͌̈͂̑͐͗̊͋̑͝Ḩ̶̖̲̤̓͑̌̂͗̇̔̿̓̒̆̾͘Ḧ̸̨̡̙͚̼͍̯̲͜Ĥ̵̭͈̺̝̠̠̙̙̳̺̻͚̅̃̉̀̌̌͆͘͝H̵̲͎̣̒̏͗̀H̷̯̦͔̥͇̖́H̸̛̜̮̆̓̂̌̒͐͒͆͗͌̒̐̄̿ͅH̸̡̰̱͖͈̦̩̫̦̪̞͆͝͝Ḣ̴̡͉̫̞̥͔̮̒̈̈͆͑̍̃͠͝͝Ḫ̴̹̺̰̐̅͌̊̃̃́̋͝H̷̨̞̲̤̪͚̼͉́͛̈́͂̐̃̊ͅH̸̢̯̼̘̝̲̹̼̊̍͆̂̔H̶̺̲͙̙̘̯͕͒̊̚H̷̢͚̝̠͎͓͖̙̖̺̤͔̅H̸̛̬͍͇̔͐̾͋͆͌͝͝H̵̢̛̰̝̤̤̹̖̋̋́̑̉̎̈́̋̍͂̕ͅH̷̡̩̥̘͇̖͔̱͙͎͕̣̊̕ͅḪ̵̢̨̱͎̳̖̗̪́̔́͗͗͑̋̀̆̂̆̾̕̕͝H̶̘̘͙͇͇͋̅̐̐͛͝Ḧ̸̰́̃̃̅̇̄̀̔͠H̵̡̩̞͈̟̝̍̈̈́̋́̏͘Ḩ̸̲̞̩̮̳̜͇͕̐̾̈́̔̆̓͒̈́͐̓̍̄̑̚̕͜Ḩ̴̤̠͓̫̅̓̓̄́̐̿́̕͝H̷̢͇̰̹̖̱̤̀̓̏̓̽̄̇͊̚̚͠͝H̷̱̟͓͓̃̕H̶̘̹̝͖̋̆̊̄̽̈̐͘͝H̶̗̹̦͖̱̥̱̹̖͈͎̺͇͌̓̐͜ͅḢ̷͇̠̟̯͖͍̥̬̟̜̻͕Ḥ̴̈̈̌̔̓͗͠H̵̭̿̆́̋̈́̓̂̉͑͒̽H̸̢̬̘̭͖̹͎͇̖͔̃͑́̇̌̆͛̀̑̍̕͠͝H̶̢̙̩͈̦̣̀̈̐̊̔͑̓͑̍̋̂̎̕͜͝Ḩ̸͇̠͙͕͇̗͖̤̜̰̈́̄͠H̴̢̰̦̜̗͚̩̗͍̲̺̪̉̔̀̿̌͜H̶̟͓̖̩̏̇͗̀̀̌̾́̍̿͘̚͠͝͝H̴̺̻͊̈́̓H̵̜̠̤̺̬̗͆̌̀͑̕H̷̫̄̈́͌̅̑̓͌̏̊̚̕̚͝H̶̛̤͚̳͐͋̆̎̈̓͝H̸̨̛̫̝̰̺͍̯̩̦͎͇̠̤̟͑̒̐͑̀͆̋́̚͝͝H̶̡͙͈͈̲̟̠̥̗̰̣̣̺̼̲͑̓̎̍̏͝H̴̜̿͂̈́͝͝H̴͉̺͊̀̿̾̈́̈́̿̐̑̄̄͗͋͝͝H̶͉͈̘̤̪͇̟͓̟̼͍̤̘̙̾̐̈́̓͒͘͠H̸̝̬͇̱̏͌͒H̶̢̛̥͇̮͋̋̈́͌͑̎͂̉̽̀͝H̵̠̗͈͖̞̣̓͜H̵̡̜̹̫̗̺̲͖̤̼͖̯̣̱͖̅͛̃Ḥ̶̣̬͈̻̼̰̞̈͗͗̌͛̍̆̈H̷̟̓̂͋̌͑̄̌͒̆͘H̸̡͎̜̜̤͊̿ͅH̸̛̦͇͕̗̓͜ͅͅH̴̟̤̙̭̏͂̈́̈̏̔H̸͉̱͍̯͋̏̏͊̚ͅͅH̸̢̛͈̘̼̳̥̬͓͎͚̐́̊͋̆̂͌̆̂̓̈́̉͘ͅH̶̛̞̱͌̇̾́̆͗̀͌̋̑̐͆H̷̨̢̢͎̗̺̘̪̜͙̓͛̌̎̈̐̉̽̌̍͝H̴̡͎̯̝̹͇̺̀͐͆͆̔̍̃̐͐͘̕͜Ḧ̴̙̪̻̎̔͆̀͂͘H̷̼̭̪̲̻͒͊̇̐́̽̇Ḧ̸̛̩̲́̀̿͗̈́͂́͌͌͑͐͘̕͝Ḩ̸̞͎̤̰̰͈̬̪̝̱̪̩̹̈̓̇͒͒̎͒̓H̴̡͖͚̰͗̈͊̔̅̓͐͐́̍͠ͅH̵͍͕̻͍̙̣̘̊H̸̪̳̻̘̣̝̲̐̅̂̇̋̍̎͂͂ͅḨ̵̡̣͍̞̮̜͗̐͋̅̇̈͌̑̽̍̋́̚ͅH̶̲͌́̋͂̀͒͆͠H̵̼̎͛͌͝H̴̥͕͔̬̟̠͕̍͗͐̈̓̑͗̓̌͂́̏̇͗̿H̶̡̪̽H̶̗̹̏̉̇̉̊̌̄͜H̴̪̺͍͕͚̩̼̱̹̦̊͛̓͐̍̇̔͝͝Ḣ̷̢̻͉͓͇̇̉̀̈̉̓͆̌̂̕͜͠͠͝H̸̥̞̼̠̰͕̭̳̗͎͚̻͉̲̳̽̉͐͆̕Ḩ̴̨̛̞̥͚̯̞̣̼͇̃̒̾̊̋̋͑̾͜H̸̨͖̥͈͕͓͕̺̙̞̫̓͋͊̈́̀̄̕Ḧ̴̖̻͖̬̠͓̯͔̹̝́͛͌̃̌̀̈́̃ͅH̴̡̧̭͙͕͍͇̱͇͕̭̫̙͗̎̓͋̌͂̊͐̃̕Ḧ̵̢̛̦̯̦͈̇̏̂̀̄̅̍́́̆̔̚H̸͓̮̟͓̞͙̃̑͌̈́̓̈́̅̍̅̽̚͝H̶̛͎̲̬̙̜̥̟̯̳̗̦̰̐͊̓̀̒̀̂̔̐́͜H̵̘̻͙̱̬̙̟͍̼͖̯̽̚H̶̫̘̮͆́̈́͌̃́͐̊͛̇H̷͚͎͐Ḧ̸̻̪̯̮̥̦́̃͂̇͂̈́H̶̡̠̟̯̩̺̜͍̦͎̐͑̒̈́͗H̵̡̛̛̓̅̑̇͂̓̿͌̌̋͑̕͝H̶̡̨͙̤̤̬̤͈̬̊̓͑̔̏̈́̒̈́͑̒̚̕͜͠H̵̨͚̞̜̞̼͎̄́̿̌̔̌ͅH̷̩͈̃͂̈̈́̈̈͊̈͠͝Ḧ̶͙̠͇̤̊̎̓̿̊̓̇͂̈́̓̉͠͠H̴͚̼̳͍̯̰͍̪̣̟̥̪͉̒̿̒̑̾̉̔̅̚͝͝ͅͅḪ̷̡̹̅̈H̷̩͈̬̋͜H̶̲͕̯͙̮͍̼̋̈́̀͂̔̄̈́̒͝Ḧ̸̞͚̥̇̅̎͋̈́̍̔̌H̶̨̗͈̰̼̝̱͈͐̐̎̋̈́̋͒̂̕͘͘͘ͅḦ̸̼́̂̂̅̓̎͛̒̌̏͌̈͛́Ḣ̸̢̩̱͖̭͖͈̞̻̮̥͔͕͎͝Ḧ̵̢̹̭͕͖̙̖͙́̈́̓͑͂͌̊͆͌̈̕Ḫ̷̘̩̤̦̤̗͎̪̂̐̒̀̀̿͂͐̏̽̅̅͒́̎͜ͅH̷̦̿̈́̊͑̾́͊̋̀̌̚͜͝Ḧ̷̨̨̯̤̹̥̺͎̲̭̼̝͂̊́̕͜H̴̼̜̩͓̝̹͙̣̭̜̮̉͛̀̓̋ͅH̸̪̥͍̭̮̦̠̜̥̔͛̐̿͒̊͒̃̊͐̂͑̊̕͠ͅH̶̢̬̳̟̜́̾̋̿̄͑̃͆͊̆̃̚ͅḢ̷̗̱̞̪̪͙̬̠̖̮̋͑͛́͒̽̍̑̕̚͜ͅͅH̵̨̗͕̙̥̱́͋͊̆H̷̯̞̦̥̝̯͉͘H̵͈̮͚̥̩̼̦̲̳̘̽̏̈́̊͗̓́̈́͌̓̐̚Ĥ̶̡̢̤̼͔̜͕̹͎͔̇̚ͅḨ̵̡̢̛̦̟̘͓̫̹̙͕̖̂͐͂͂̇̑̂͒͂͝͝H̷̢̧̨̹̖̖̰͉̪̲͔͉̎̇̌̈́͆́͗͒́H̴̢̦̖͉͍͖̹͎̜͊̔̂̊̉͂̕͝ͅH̷̛̝̟̙͇̬͈̬͉͉̜̙͊̔̇̓͛͒͜͝ͅḦ̷̢͔́̂͋̿̈́̑̏̋̒̒̔͘Ḥ̷̘̥̘̬̘̤͈͖̓̃̚͘H̶̪̼͈͚̻̙̲̾͑͑Ḧ̴̙̺̭̹̫̯͈̜̟̤̼͈͛̈́̋̋̏͋̚̚͜͝͝Ḩ̴̨̱͋̋̓͑̄̍͛̈́͒͘͠H̵̟͖͔̠̅͛̽̿͛̈́͛̔̅͗͜͜͠H̶̡̧̩̺̩̞̳̊̈̇̂͊̄̌͆̂͑̚͘Ḩ̵̛̛̻͕̮͙͉̫̳̜̈̂̈́̂̿͝͝͝Ḩ̶̛̥̯̼̙͉̪̫̤̻̪̽̾̄̇̈́͂̒̓̿̽̕͘H̸̛͇̙̿̃̋̇̄͐̋͑̈̑̀̽̇͜Ḣ̵̢̢̗̻͐͐́̾̅H̷̩͖̤̙͉̘͒͐͆̇̌̅̔͂̋͒̃̃͘H̵͚͓͙̓͂̅͛̏̈́̑̀̈́̀̽̿̚͠H̸̡̥͓͔̯̯̲͓̋̊͂̾͐Ḩ̴͉̼͖͔̭̹́̓́͑̓͑̊H̶̛̺̫͖̹͇̪̙̱͙̣̱̰̅͐̽́͑̏̃͌̋͝͠H̸̡̢̲͉̖͍̬͚̹̯̱̺͑́̿̎́H̵̡̭͚̱͎͎̤̫̺̉͌̿͑̔̓͋͗ͅH̷̛̬͆̂̂̈̐̌̄̀́H̴̢͓̙̓H̵̞̗͚̺̣̗̮̙͉̺̻͎͚͊̇̾̍͐̀̍̏͑̓̕͠Ḣ̵̛̛͖̟̪͔̱̞͉͔͓̓̀͊̉́̍́̉̚H̶̢̲̤̘̥͉̗̲͚̠̓́͆̾͝͝H̴̜͓̅͒̓̉͘Ĥ̸̦̈́̃́͂̇̎̄̀̓H̶̢̢̞̩̦̺̘͎̥̞̞̎̌̎͌̅̍͊͛͗̚̚͠H̴̳̩̭̟̲͓̭̰̘͎̆̃̿̔̓͒̋H̴̛͇̳̒̓̇͂̋H̷̨̛̙̱̫̄̽̈́͗̇͌͆́̍̒̉̚͝͝H̴͙͓̳̳̠̎͐̐̽͆̎͛̆̓̂͝Ḫ̵̡͚͈̻̖̳̙͙̣͚̜͂͆̄̄͜H̸̜̗̻͚̑̋͊͌̓̿͑̇̄̂͠H̷̏͗̓̾̈́̈́̈́͛ͅH̷̖̖̐͗͂̍̇͌̄͊̓̈͘͘͝H̷̬͉̹̭͙̯̫͍̪͍̏̄̌ͅH̴̡̝̯̍̒͑̈̽̀͒̿͆͝H̸̹̍̅̔͌̽͠͝ͅH̴̼̘͍̓̎͂̆̆͗̃̐̒̿͌̕Ḩ̴̛̭͍͎̪̟͔̺̮͔̱̑͋͋͌̆̏͌͛̌̍̆̚͝H̵̖̬̯͇͖͙̠̳̫͖̳̻̹̀͑̇́͋̎H̵̟̬̽̿͒̔̍̈́̑̇͘̕̕͠͠H̵͚͑̈́̚H̷̡̱͇̬̀͗̊́̑͌͊̈́̈́͛͝͠ͅH̷͉͇̘̄̓̈́͋͂̑́͊̀́̄̆̚͜Ȟ̸̡͉H̶̥̼̭̥̹̤̣͔̗̽́͛̎̚H̶̛̞͓̠̦͔͕̆̈́͊̐͠H̵̡̨̭̼̥̪͚̝̩̝̯̽̎̀H̴̡̬̮̠̤͍͖̞̼̩͎̚H̶̨̭̪̦̱̬̳̤͈̩̳͍̄̈́ͅḨ̴͈͍͓͚̦̣͖͙͇̻̞̱̉̂̿̽̈́͊́̋̄͛͂̿̒̊Ḩ̷̡̡͕̠͔̿͐̀̊̏̔̕Ĥ̸̨̡̢̲͓̜͕̟̳̱̻̯͈͉̬̐̄͐͑͊͒̔̎̔́̓͘͝H̶̪̫̖͙͓̮̖̭͖̥̉́́͒̉̈́͐̚ͅḢ̴̡̻̗͍̩̱̮̺̲͙̗̖̝̈́̏̀͑̆͊͊͐͝ͅĤ̴̹͈̌͆̆̋͐͐̓̾̈́̐̚H̶̨͎̘̣͓̝̱̬̤̩̙̗͇̗͋̓̈́͒͗̚̚͝H̵̰̞̗͔̝̗̏̾̊̈́̎̓̔͊͗͘͝Ḥ̶̱̤̭͓̟͚̀̄̅̔͂͊̓͂͑͠͠H̸̢̨̨̺̫̬̼͓̘̰̟̖̦̝̜̐̅͋̅́̍͆̈́͝H̵̛̥̮͙̦͋̌́͆̍̚̕͝Ḥ̴̘͚̪̟̩̬̝͗͆̐͑̎̎̍̿̀̌ͅH̴̡̛̛̲̣̰̀̃͛͑̂̉̊H̴̢̜͇̟̺̭͐͒̚Ḩ̶̢̢̹̫̬̟̙̤͙͇͓͙̓̄͊̊̈́̓̀͝H̴̩͓͇̎̀̅̑̄̈́̒͋̀̐͗͝H̸͎̪̤̳̖̼̱̫̮̿̊̈́͊́͋̉H̵̨̜̣̜̓͌͌͛̀͘H̵͚̖̹͈̤́͛̾̃̒̓̃̏͆̈́͗͒̏̕H̴̢̝͕̹̘̠͖͍͈͓́͊̍̐ͅͅḨ̷̮̳̗̟͔̜̻͔̇̄̿͐̔͗͝͝H̶̩̳̦̠̏̇̿͛͆̐̈́̀͆̄̍͋̚͝H̸̢͕̳͖̖̑̎͗̑͝͝͠H̶̛̞̯̝̳͗̈́̆̅̊͌͝H̴̜͈̑H̷̢̧̡͈̖̜̩̝̖͍͕̉̀͠H̴̺̺͎͓̭̖̦̪͊̓̓͘H̴̰̘̥̙͐̎̽́̇͛̐͋͑͜͝H̴̡̪̙̣̮͈͈̠̦͓͐̏͂̌̔̉̅̈͘H̶̡̫̍̈̑̑̀͌̍̈͌̔̃͠H̷̱̬̭͇͇̺̤͐͗̓̄̎̒̆ͅH̶͙̾̋͜͝ͅH̵̛̫̯̮̻͈̠͖͓͙̤̦̯͚̺̺́͆̈́̕Ḩ̴̘̘̪̮̫̗̀̔͊̏̈́́̀͆̃̈́̈́̇H̷̛̪̖̫̘̓̋Ḧ̴̪̤́̔̌̇̉͌͘Ḧ̸̠͙̲̬̦́̏̆͆̂͘͝H̸̼͕̦̾̈̈̇̈Ḩ̶̣̙̜͆̃̓̇̃̀̚͠H̶̙̤̭̠̘͖̟̲̰̬̟͊͊̿͛Ḧ̷̫̜̘͔̙̝͔̭̥̼́̋́̈́́̄͒̕͜͜H̸̯̰͇̦̱̠̱̞͉͍͎̩͎̑͛͊͌̀̐̅H̴̢̛̭̥̜̼̾̈́̋̓̑͂̽̓̍̀͌̀̕͜͜Ḥ̷̮̯̦̀̓̊̇̉́̇͗͐́̚͝H̴̢̙̗͔̤͍̲͓̃̆̐̃͝͝H̶̨̞̖̮́̃͝Ḩ̸̣̼̭͖̫̻̇̏̀̋̄̈́͜Ḩ̷̳̥̺̦̜̯̟̺͎͕̲͕̘̅͗̔̅͌͠Ḩ̶̩͙̠͖̤̟̪͖̤́̃͋̔̍̎̒͐̍̎́̓͠H̴͍̲̰̞̹̳̤͗̑́͜Ḥ̷͎̤̩̼̺͉̟̜̲̱̐͊̂̈́̓̏́͠͝H̵̛͖̻̪̤̬̒̂͠H̷̢̡̢̠͓͉͓̟͖̭̻̹̝̐͂̓͜͜H̷̡̡̧̛̠͈̓̽͆́̈́̌͠ͅH̵̢͉͙̟̣̟̱͂H̵̨̜̪̪͓̰̣̘͈̰̠͍̣͓͇̓Ḧ̶̡̢͔̳͈̠̙̭̱̬̯̣͈̺́͐̅̃ͅH̷̨̱̘̘̮̦͎͙̟͈̖̱̓͒H̵̻͉̗̖̼͖̻̩̻̼̻͐͌͌Ḩ̶̡͈̼̻͇͎͕̬̭̫͛̊̀̈͗͋̀̂̿̎̆͝ͅH̵̩͈̜̝͙͓̰̥̘̞̓́͐͘͠H̴͚͍͎͖̪̐̓̆͠H̴͉͍͗͗̂͐̔͊̚ͅḤ̸̡̲̬̟̻̠̙̲̀͛͒͌̿͜͠Ḫ̷̢̢̛̱͍̝̞̲̠͙̗̗͖͙̀͊̐͋͠ͅH̴̡̧̤̫͉̦͉̳̺̮͕̟͋̈́̌̓͝͝ͅH̶̢͚̹̭̺̿̾̊̏͐͑̄̃̔͌̆H̴̨̻͖͉̳͉̙̱̖̙͑̀͋̀̐̎̄͌͑͒ͅḦ̸̡̛͎̞͖͈̜͉͓͓͕̥̝͔͕̬̾́H̴̢̼̯̗͒́͊̀͐̀͠H̸̤͓̮̬̣͔̰͖̗͖̤̣͆̇H̷̡̨̹̳̖̹̤̤̯͓̭̤͒̓̌̚̕͜H̶̢͎̤͍̞̙̞͎̳͙͉́͋̀̈́̂̾͘͜͜ͅH̶͖̝̾̏H̵͈̩̣͚̝͓̭̼̦̍̓̂̋͐̀͑͛̈́͂͛̾̌͜H̷̝͖̩̀͗̈́̊̄̆͆͠H̸̢̬̫̺͉͖̝͓͔̬̍̔̋̇̀͗̐̅̆̄͌͊́H̴͕̺̭̘̟̏̉̂͑͜͝H̶͔̫̻͔͓̱̱͖͚̣̕H̸̺̙̼̖̫̝̟̯̗̲͊̓̓̈́̈́̂̈́̍͘͘ͅͅḨ̵̧̧͕͔̤̜̥̬͂́́͛̽̈́͂̏͗͋̌͆͝͝H̶̨̪̳̥̒̈́̿̐̆͒̄͑̽Ḩ̵̖̤̰̥͍̝͔̱̈́̈́̈̆͆̂̏̚H̷̢͈̻̼͖̣͈̱͖̥͚̼͖͖̝̐̎͌̀͋̀͗̚͝͠H̶͉͉̟́̍́̎́̇́̈́̌̔͌͊̿͘H̵̡̧̛̜̝̲̲̥̍̈̑̓̆͗̍̈́̿̈̅̌̕͝H̸̼̟͎͙͓͈̲͎͚͚̠̤̼͗̒̿͊̔̑͂͝H̵̢̧̙͇̝̺̟̤̞͌͂̇̋̍͒̀̓̅̽̑̿̓̀͐H̶̺̄̌̏̑̓͌͒́͜͝H̸̛̛͙̀̽̀̌̿͝H̸͚̩̺͆̀͊̀̊̂́͑͊͗͝H̵̨͈͔͖̻̞̟̤̰̙̐͊͂̄̊̓͝͝H̶̡̧̟̃͒̓̆̕͠Ĥ̷͎̰̙̳͕̘̟̦͔̰̇̐͊͑͗Ḩ̴͚̥͉̎͐̀͑̀̔͂̚̚̚Ḩ̷̤͉̙̻͖͍̮̲̥͔̉̍̊̈́̃̕Ḣ̸̛͓̑̋͗͊̇̓̽̐͠H̵̩̗͙̦̗̥͔̃̈́̿͊͗̈́̅͆͐̐̄̾͌͆Ḧ̴͕̪̳̦̰͇̾̽̓H̵̨̧͈̠̥̩̯̙̜͎͗̔̀͛̑̈̊͗̄͊͘͠Ḩ̵̧̜͚́̃̍̊̈́̋͗̚͝H̵̡̨͎̣̥̯͕̥̭̣͌͛̾̋͋̃̊͑̑̋̄͜͜͜Ḥ̵̡̲͒́̋̋̑̍̚ͅH̴̡̠̣̠̹̱̦̮̦̑̇̒͊͐̍̅̂͑͘͠ͅH̵̨̛̛̳̝̜̥̜͇̣̜́͌̑̕Ḧ̸̢̡̗͖̣̲̲̬̣͕͚͍̮̻́̔̑̎̀̐̆͂̿́͠H̵̢̡̺̰͎̻̗̙͔́̈́͒̐̉̔̓͘͜H̸̠̲̞̫̻̘̞̒̎̽͋̊̋͌̆̀̀͐̕͘͘Ḩ̸̡̹͇̻͔̪̰̞̞͓̈̋͌͐̈̄͛͗̔̌́͠͝Ḧ̸̢̺̲̩͙̲̮̦̞̹̝̩͓̰́̊̇̀̏̇̃͝H̵̦̜͇̝͓̱̲̠̰̉̾͠H̷̛̪̦̪̞͎̦͎̭̰̉͐̂̓͜͝H̷͖̫̹̎̐̀͂̿̚H̵̦̒̀̾̌́̍̒̈́͛͑̓͘͘H̶̹̼̫̭͓̣͗̑̐͐̕̚H̵̛̖̃͆͛̎̒̆͋͘̕H̷̢̞̟̫̳̳̝͚̞̲͐͊̒̐̇́̔͆͝H̴̰̖̘̮͋͆̎H̴̱̭̜̯̠͔͖͉̫̖͕̤̹̐̇̄͐̉̽̆H̶̛̬̖̣͖̫͙̦̻͊̄̓͂͑́̓̐̄̿́̂̑̆H̷̢̢̛̛̫̞̹̥̙̺͎̩̽̈̈́̎̍̍͋̐̉͝͝͠H̴͔̻̥̫̲̥̯̄̚̚͝H̴̢̫͓͎̥̣̪̣̭̯̳̓̎ͅH̵̢̞͗͌H̶̨͇̲͕͉̜̉̾̃̍̋̅͛̓͌̃̆͘͘͝ͅH̸̦̟͍̫̯̝͇̆̑̌̇͌̃͒̑̈́̚͘Ḩ̶̝͎̱̭͉̹̱͋͂̉̐̎͝H̸̢̗͉͎̬̪̱̟͇͙̥͖̹́̚H̶̖̗̯̆̃͋̒͆Ḫ̸̡̞͓̼̮͑͌̒̋̿͗̊̾H̴̫͕͕̻͆̽͑̀́̒̅̃̀̄͘͜͝͝H̴͙̠͉̓͝Ḫ̷̼̯͇̦͊̿̆̈̀̕͠H̷̢̟̲͌͜͠Ḩ̴̧̢̳̦̥̭͚̜͓̤̔̆̇̎̊̿̉̃̀̃̎͘͜͝H̶̺͓͓̼̖̉̇̐͐̆̉̇̓H̶̨̝̣̱̩͉̙̦̻͌͒̚͝Ḥ̸̦͖͙͉̠̱̔͒̾͂̀̕H̶̨̖͉̜̘̤̬̻͕͚̱̅̍̅̾̇̀̌̋͋̄̎̇̕͝H̸̜̫̓͆͊̎̏̔̐͒͋̈̕͝͝Ḧ̶̡̦̩̼̼̰͈̰͖̹̤̣̱͍́͘ͅH̵̡̡̬̯̐͌͋̀͋͘͝Ḩ̴͉̟̱͈̘̟̪̬̙̯̖̙̳̿̅͊͛̆̇͛̋̆͗͌̊̃̏̅Ḧ̸̟͗̀̆̾́̓͆̕͠͝͝H̵̡̺̳̥̪̐̈͘H̴͖͍͇̥̬̩͙͔̖͎̲̱̤̓̚͜͜Ḩ̸̲͎͓̭̝̫͖̰̳͇̦͚̘̂͛̂͗ͅH̸̛͉̬͖̘̞͓̣͔̹̞̼̩̀̾̐̒͗̑̿̽̑̈́̾Ḧ̴̨̟̪̪̻͎̻̳̮̲́͛̇̄͛́̕͜͝H̷̢̢̨̭͇̱̖̠̞̤̻̩̪͑̓̍̊͐͋͊͂̒ͅH̶̠̯̹͉͎̭̪̝̥̘̅̾͊̽̐͛ͅH̵̫͕͖̗̹̝̪̗̗̺̱͇͎͇̽͆̃̿̉̍̐͘͠͝ͅḦ̴̛͙̩̺͗͑͊̄͒͑̀̍͝Ḧ̶̨̬̘̤̹̞͍̙̭͉̪̖͍̬́̈̆̄̍̈́̆͌̔̋Ĥ̶̨͖̫̙͎̫̱̹͚̞̭̞̟̠͑͑͑̈́̾́̅̆̃̐H̶̡̢̛̳̦͉̝̰͕̑͒̄̋͐̐̑͗͛̎̕͠ͅH̷̡̫͔͕̞̆ͅH̷̨͍̹͖͚̘͉̠̐̒͌́̌̔̋̈́͂͜H̴͍͔̄̌̉͊̄͑͆̿̂̈́̒̃̿͠Ḩ̸̛͔͙̩̻̤̟̬̗̩̭͚͚͗̌̀͠͠H̵̹̼̭̫̬̳̾̀̿H̵̹̾̊̂̈́͌̅̐̍̑͗͆H̵̡̲͖̫̤̱͚̰̉̓̉̐͐̓̂̔͋̇͋̕͝H̶̙͖̖̣̠̜̔̂̔̾͒̇͋̈́͒̕̕H̵̪͍̓̑̉̇̽́͑͆͛̇̂̿͘Ḥ̷̨̞̩̼̀̃̆͝H̸̥̠̩̗̥͎̙̻̹̲̮͔͋͝H̸͙̱̼̗̘̫͔̬͎̦͍̅̍͗͂̓H̸̯̭̬̫̹̺̝̞̬̝̙̰̥̯̀́͒͋̈̈́̊̽̌́́̀͘͝H̸̝̫̮̙͙̰͍̹̖̎H̵͈͙̩̝̝̉̅͝H̷̡̢̛̹̹͇̱͉̀̾̋̒̅͒̂̋͂̒̅͆͜͝Ḩ̴̯͙̬̳͎̘̣̹̝͙͙̊̄̂́͐͂̃̓͝ͅḨ̶̤͇̒̀̒̅́H̶̢̢̤̫̹̞͔͖̰̗̮̑̓̌͆̎̔͊́̓̕̚͜͝͝Ȟ̶̨̹̫̜̘̬͍̼̱̯̬̺̙͎̈́̌͑̈͘͝͠ͅĤ̵̤̺̞̲̖̬͇̰̮̱̥͎̓̓̍͂̈́͛̎͑͑̿̾͒̿̉ͅH̴͓̟̙͒̀̋̈̽̃͑́̋̉̈̔̊̄͝H̶̛͕̦̺̪̻͎̐̂̓͛̇̋́͝H̴̡̞̲̣͖̜͎̗͚̻͔̮̊̈͋Ȟ̴̢̻̦̖͕͚̥̼̬̣́͐̒̄̃͐̓̉͌͐͐͆̕͜ͅH̶̫̝̻͍̘̲̮̣̦̖̭͓͎̉̄̓̿͑͌̀̽͝H̷͔̝̪̰̦̰̲͍͔̺͈̯̱͓̀̐̀̑̏̂̐̚H̵̟͒͒̾̎Ĥ̷̨̙͉̯͕̖͖̻̻͉̠̱͔͔̬͋͋̇H̶̘̲͓̺̍̌̍̓̑̆̃͗̐̚͝͠H̸̡̨̡̼͖̥̬̺͎̤̥̯̍̿̄̐̐̈̾͛̽͊͂̏͘H̴̬̥̦͔̻̙̩͎͙̫̲̗̟͔̽͊͜H̷̡̢̤̻͈̗͖͇̭̩̖̄͊͂̏̈́̄̓̍͘̕͝Ḧ̴̥̻̒̄͒͠H̴̯͇̟̭̘͎̳̝͇̫̅̓̾̒̽͊̈́͋̀͠ͅḦ̵̡̗̪͓̟̜́́͑̋͠ͅH̴̨̛͆̿͐͑̎́̆̔̈̚H̷̛̲̺͓̀̌͐́͂͑̓̊̈̈̚͠Ĥ̶͕̦̥̝̞͓͔̰̞͇̫̩̫͓̓̀̐͊͂̓͑͂̑̉͆̇̓͜Ḩ̵͓͚̞͎͇͙̞̬͖̌̔̿̔̀̈́͆̿́̾͑H̷̛̺̞̬͔̦̭̖͑̋̏̈͋͌͘͘H̴̢̩̝̜̪̜̑͋ͅH̵̡̡̡̧͔̠̱̝͍͍̺͋͊̔͒̓͝Ḧ̵͈̭̮̼̩́̑̑͑̈́̍̌͆̏̚͝͝͠͝H̴̨̡̫̖̮̦̦̙̭̗̦̦͔͈̐̋͜H̴͓̔̃͗̂̎́̏͛͌̑̚͝͝Ḩ̵̢̠͚͓̣̺̬͎̱̬̦͒̆́̃̕H̶͕̪̪̟͉̰̙̖̤̻̟̼̮́͛̍̓̾̒́̄͂̀͊̚̚ͅH̶̳̼̳̠̬̞̟̯͕̰̝̪̺̓̎̀̀̈́̄̽̍̂͑͒̂̾͘͜͝H̸̢̦̳̹̦̤̗̤͆͑͆͂͌̑̒̑̃͐͛͝H̸̢̛͈̰̞̍̉̊̂̔̓̉̏̍̊̔͘H̵͇̳̰̦͐̚
.
.
.
The screams his sister made stopped, Sunny did not how or why they stopped or even appeared in the first place,
But he knew that now there was nothing once again. No eyes, no distorted voices or bodies. Just pure darkness, outside of the light emanating from the bulb above him.
And he felt like crying.
That push,
that rope. He caused this.
All of this.
His sister, the one that would give him hugs during nightmares, save him from drowning.
is dead.
Because of him.
He could feel tears now flowing outside of his eyes, like when he clenched Mari's arm when he thought she was dead.
She was right, she gave everything for him, and he gave nothing in return.
He only wanted to escape this reality, to escape his hell. If only he could see her and his friends alive, having adventures, taking photos, going to picnics, like they always did.
If only
If only
"A way."
The same voice, the one that led him to the door, that revealed the past about him, spoke now.
But the reason for it was something... different.
"You have seen the past now. You have seen your sins. You wish for everything to go back to normal, don't you?"
Sunny, in his sadness and regret, could only nod.
"Fear not, dear boy, for I will give you that wish. I will give you the life you always wanted. A life with your sister, friends, and adventures and candy and alike. This is the utopia I promised you back there.
All you have to do is to hold my hand."
A giant, slimy hand suddenly came out of the darkness, flinching Sunny back. But before he flew, he realized what the voice meant.
Maybe he should not trust the voice, which deceived him and caused him hell.
But on the other hand.
"And follow me into your dreams."
Sunny grabs him.
The hole opens.
.
.
.
In the distant whiteness, there was only quiet, only white, only nothing.
No life lived there, no birds, no trees, not even the plants, for there was no soil where there could be planted, no nest where the birds would nurture their youth.
No nothing
There was just quiet
Only quiet
All quiet.
All...quiet
Until he came
Suddenly, the ground burst with a force so massive that it shook White Space with the strength of a fast-swaying playset. Cracks formed on the ground, spreading across the ground, and increasing to form
an entrance
He came.
Suddenly, out of the blackness, a giant hand grabbed the ground above, attempting(and succeeding) to raise itself above.
Out of the cracks came a horrifying beast. A black slimy monstrosity was just as scary as the worst horror monsters as it was real.
Its hands were like overgrown claws, parts of which were falling to the floor and yelping . Its torso came full from the pond and was as large and intimidating as death itself.
A familiar hair antenna was shaking
And the body was filled with eyes
So many eyes.
„ R̴̮͎̺̹̈́̎̑̂̿̑͝O̴͍̣͕̗̐͐À̴̩͗͊̓̅̽͛A̷͖̯͉̙͋̿͗̃͗̾́̕̕À̵̧̮̩̩̰̦̖̉́̍͒͜A̸̩͛͂̏̏̔͝A̴̢̩͖͚̘̪̱͗̚A̵̱̜̘̘̬̝̲̩̙͇͎͓̤͂̈Ą̸̛̛̼̲̺̹̺̟̒͆̄̄̎̀̍̎͐̕̚͝ͅA̷͔̼̣̥̙̟̔͜͝Ą̷̨̨̛͍̱̝̳̣̻̑̉̉̇͌́̎͑̈̕͠Á̵̡̫̖͈̣͖̜͖̏̌͑̏̌̃̒͗̌̇̆̚ͅA̷̧̢̤̗̻̖̻̲͉͖̰̒͒͌̄͂̉͌̒ͅA̷̧͍͙͇̠͗̿Ą̶̧̨̢͇̖̺̰̯̲͔̤̘̮͐̋͋Ạ̵̥̺̪͓͍̻̟͚̞̘̤͚̏͜ͅA̵̡̼͑̉̓͆̿͑̎̈́A̸̛̙̯̱̦̬͑͌̈̓̍̋͂̏̀̾͋̕͝A̴̢͕͈̩̻͙̭̺̳͈̦͔̞̙͐͋̆͂̀́́̒͐̕͝͝͝A̷̛͇͍̖͆̈́̍̀̉̀̿̆̊À̵̱̎̿̉̓͆̈́͗̾̍̚A̵͈̞̬͍͉͍̣͉̥̥̝̩͎͈̳̅̌͌̉͠A̸̧̧̱̫̩͙̱̳͎̩͎̦̽̂̃͋́̍̀̏͒̿͐͑̉͠Ȃ̴̡̛͕̲̭͚̱̰͎̫͙̄͑̋̃̑̈́̈́͛͌̑̀͘͝A̶͖̦͇͕̯͚̘̮̣͉͛̈́̆̄́͂͐̈́͛͌͜͜͠͠͝ͅȂ̴͓̙͇͛͒̍̿̎̽̊̈ͅÂ̸̡̡̛̯̝͉͇̹̮͔̲̪̫̳̖̮̈̏̀̈́̎̂͊̐̀̆͑̌͘Á̵̪̺͙̳̻̲̲͓̦̥͚̑̎̀̀̎͗̕ͅA̸̢̛̳̳̪̾̒͊͌̅͛̍̀̆͌͘͘͝À̸̧̨̧̼̟̜̥̣̗͙̝̪̺̗̺̔̐̊͋́̑̔̉̆́̆͘͘͠À̷̧͕͛͗͂̃̋̉̚͝A̵͙̻͇̟̗̫͕͙͗͊͑̔̈͒̑̀͊͘͝͠͠Ą̶̢̦̱̟̘̦̺̪̱̥͙̖̒̚A̵̡̢̞̘̙̲͈̣͖̖̮̒͗̋̆̓̐̀̾̽̚̕͜͠ͅA̴͎͉̲̟̲͔̤̘̩͇̦̓̂̔̅͑̍͒̚A̵̖͛̓̊͌̿̈́̿̀̏̕͘̕Ą̶͖̳͙̣̥̜̻̗̮̱̂͑͐̏̐̌͂̓̔͂̚̕͝ͅĄ̶̠͍͉̄̾̑̎̓͒̊̽̎̆̆̉̚͘͜A̸̛̦̖̤͎̱͙͈̿̋̊̍̈́̅́̎͠Ą̷̛̛͎̻͖̩͈̑̃̿͋́͑̕̕A̴̠͕͔̓̆͛̐͂̈͛̋͌͊̂͝͠A̸͍͈̝͐̑͌̔̔̂͑̀̚̕Ā̶̧̢̡̢͙̺͔̀͐͗͌̅̇ͅÄ̷̡̧̧̼͍̮͈̣̜̗̞͖̹́̏̚͝A̸̡̨̹̲̺͙̬͉͈̝̜̥͉͇͂̔͜Ȁ̵̬̦̫̦̺͕͔͎̻̖̽͝͝͝A̸͇̟̰͋̃͐̋̊͠Ą̷͚̤̹̺̭̫̺̞̰͓̅͌̅̒̈́̓̕ͅĄ̵̝͈̮̫̖̜̜̥̪̣͑̎͋̆̽̑͛͗̓̕A̶̳͔̙̮̥̜̮͛̀̓̉A̷̛̮̰̗͉̞̰̠̝̅̈́̾̽̉̈́̐͑͆̌̕͘͠͠Å̷̧̯͍͍̦͇͍̥̳͓͈̄͊͊̚̚ͅA̶͓̮͊̍͒̈́̽̊̒Ȁ̸̧̠̱͉̱̪̖̼̺̥͒̽Ă̷̪̪͔̭̠̼͉̣͖̲͕͝ͅͅA̷͎͕̐̉Ǎ̷̧̟̪͍̜͚͖̜͓͔̗̟̟͌̚A̸͇̹͕̼̰̮͌̅̕͜ͅĄ̶̗̥͍̲̥̫̗͐A̶͇̠͓͉̺̹̫̤͕̻̤̜̟̅̒̏̅͘͠Ạ̵̛̯͎͍̰͉̫͓͙̟̏̉͛̆̋̋̋͛̂̐̽̏͝A̴̛̛̹͈̽̋̋̀̀́̆͛̐̒̉͘͠A̵̧̮̼̰̳̺͚̖̣̐̂̔̇͘̚͜A̶͔̳͉̜̤̮̰̳̠̻͐̈̐̌͆ͅĄ̵̨̗͎͍̜͌̎̈́͒̇̀͂͘͝͝A̷̢̗͗͌̈́̃̅̅͘̕͝͝ͅÅ̸̢̢͖̤͇͔̤̣͙̠̽̑̅̾̔̾̃̀̽̓̾̚͜͜͝ͅĄ̸̧̝͖͔̘͖̭̩͉̗̼͔̩̃̒̎̋͜Ā̸̧̳̼͕̳̬̝̻͗͋͌̅͂̒̓͊͌̕͜͝ͅA̸̮͇͕̦̘̻̻͗̌̌̈́̈ͅǍ̵̢̢̢̞̻̩͉̤̖̠͚̤̱̮̦̓A̸̮͗̈́̾̅̓̀Ä̷̡̫̠̟̯̣̪̮̹̜͉͜R̸̢̮̞͓̖̻̽͑̄͐̔̉R̸̞͊̊͂͛͌̏̕͠ͅŘ̴̨̩̳̯̘̻̄̕͠͝Ŕ̷̤͗̽̃̿͘R̷͕̜̤̖̭͔͑̈̓̈́͊̀͐̿̎R̸̢̺͉̩̻̭̲̟̼̹̞̙͚̭̘͐̏̃͝Ŗ̵̖͍͍̥̞̩̹̯͊́̾̔͛̽̒̕͘͠Ŗ̷̢̩͈͓͔̟̟̪̤̙̎́̂̈́̆̄̀̇͆̈́͌̕͠ͅR̷̗͇̩̅Ṙ̴͇̱͍̘̫̲̏̽̐̏͊́͗̀͛̒̿͊͐ͅR̷̻̺͛ͅŘ̵̝̏̎͆͊̎͒̔͛̕R̶̮̬̬͔̘͂̅͛̈́̆̏̉̃̎͠R̸̨̛̞̥͍̖̞̞̞͙͓͎͕̊̑͆̑̈́̏̾͠͝Ŗ̴̟̞͈̬̭̱̳̣͌̒̒́̈̓̒̒̽͠͠͝ͅR̴͇̮̭̼͈͗̇̒̉̓͐Ŗ̸̩̪͓̜̤̎̄̐̃̍̐͘R̴̨̧̺̳̰̖͚̰̞̘͉̞̞̒̎̀̃͊̑̕͘͝R̴͔͇̆́͒̅́͑̄Ŗ̶̛̥̼̲͈͓̙̣̣̜͙̙̜̊̌̒̅̐̚͘R̷͍̰̬͋̌̀̎̆͑̏͋̏͘̕Ř̴̜̰͖͍̣̘̼̤̮̓͂̈͆̈̅̊͜R̶̠̤̣͎̘̦̟͐̓̄̐̃͋̊͑R̶̝̩̗͐͌͌̽͗ͅR̶͈͍̪͍̹̄̀͛̈́Ŗ̷̛̺̩͓̖͔͕͉̀̃̔̇̊̏̈́̎̊̕͝Ŗ̸̛̙͓̝̈̀̅̓̔̎̊͋̿̈̎̅̊̕ "
The beast violently came out of the hole and dragged itself through the white floor, hands clenching, the loud roars being heard across the room.
But then,
He morphed
The claws became hands
Legs were beginning to form
The roars became quieter.
The beast
became
more
human
More and more
Human
Human legs
Human torso
Human arms
Human hair
Human mouth
Human
Human
Human.
He
He
He
Omori
The collection returned
And so did the door
He opened it, knowing what was behind it
And saw a purple sky. Stars making many imaginative shapes and creatures, from now and long ago.
Oh good,
It's Aubrey.
„Hey Omori," she shouted with glee, „wanna go on an adventure?"
Got sick and still managed to write 4000 words into this. Don't expect me to start working on the next chapter before Monday.
Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and post your opinions in the comments below. All criticism is welcomed.
If anyone actually wants to make fanart for this fic, then be sure that I will mention it in the notes above next chapter (or the next one or etc.) The best fanart will be placed within the story itself. Thank you, and I really appreciate it.
And of course, happy Eid al-Adha to all you Muslims out there
Peace.
7: a to h