A sound. Anew.

Her heart. It beats.

It sweeps the scale of high to frail and turns into a type of wail.

Sound. Space. Sound. Space.

At its volume height, the thud releases a shadow of itself. A soft stutter. A slight self. Soon it subsides, lowers its lilt and blends with its end.

The new solitude and silence of the cavern tugs at her soul. “Hello?”

Her words are stolen by the darkness. 

No sound. No nothing.

Scattering, scattering…

But her words were never heard, were they? 

A sudden pang of terror. 

Here I am, the last to live. The only living being in the universe. Alone. In the dark. Everybody else has died, and I failed to even do that correctly. Therefore I am here alone and this is my punishment. 

You stumble backwards and hit the floor. “Wait, wait,” you say, “this isn’t me! What are you doing?!” 

But of course. Mistakes are easily made in the dark. This is why stillness is so important. Let the echoes from within tumble out gracefully. 

The girl shakes her head to stop the things. This is clever. She is a clever girl. Nothing more.

There is nothing but darkness, as far as the eye can’t see. We smirk at the line. It’s too good, someone else must’ve used it before. 

But if you go down that road, we might as well stop writing this whole thing.

hello

Writing? Huh. Odd.

doc

What if what we’re supposed to do has nothing to do with doing? What if watching was the key? 

doc

But where are we, exactly? What is this mysterious place, or space, and is it the same as all other similar ones, in the same way that all dry land is the same planet? 

can you see me

Arbitrary definitions based on weak configurations aside, the fact remains that to explain one must begin to think and train and perhaps even become somewhat of an expert on the dissemination of both meaning and words, both of which tend to not lean towards the static nature so prevalent in the decaying moral landscape of whatever current culture you happen to be in right now- because of course all things tend toward the down, the beneath. What goes up, as they say, must down down again, lowering the bar further so that no living being could fail to surmount it- except for those who are scared of the lie. But

the others are gone

Fear glistens. 

but i know you are not

Have you ever wondered if you deserve to be happy?

Strange, right? 

Because if the definition of happiness differs from person to person, wouldn’t it make sense that the only person who deserves your specific, singular type of happiness would be yourself?

you are not gone

Wouldn’t not seizing that happiness be wasteful and akin to not finishing your plate of food because a thousand children die in Africa every day from hunger?

not fully

But this is not where fear comes from. 

we need you

There is another theory, one that states that fear is actually not fear at all. It is something that the English language has difficulty putting into words. 

Maybe because words are not supposed to convey a thing but rather point to the thing. 

Words are maps, not portals.

Action is the only portal.

But the thing that hides in the skin of fear might well be a thing that uses maps as portals. So it might well be not only beyond our descriptive powers but our ontological ones as well. 
But we might as well try. We’re here, aren’t we? 

you can stop now

So the thing could be construed as perhaps hate. But this is not the correct term for it. Nor is anger, nor is evil. Perhaps we can call it by…. another name.

he cant find us here

The point is this; this thing that is not fear has murdered fear. It stuck a knife into its neck and sucked its blood bone dry. Then the thing that is not fear tore open the skin of the thing once called fear. It crawled into this flesh, draping its new, dead, secondary face over its own eyes and ears. The dead mouth was too small, so it it that one off, and it itself breathes mouth agape like some monster.

the one who watches lost her lids

But it is not a monster, at least not any more than a shark or a murderer or a patch of lilies is a monster. It is just a thing, with no name, living invisibly in the empirical world.

she will never blink again

And this then is what we think is fear. It feeds on distrust and disgust. It hoards all the hate and it swallows your pride. 

doc

Because it has been in the skin of fear for so long, it almost at times forgets it is not. You, however, have no clue. You have no idea that this grotesque parody has even happened. Right now you read this, and inside a part of you chuckles at how ridiculous this all is, and you think it what that part means by ridiculous is the assertion that such a situation could ever possibly happen rather than the idea that your so-called higher consciousness could ever suspect the truth in your whirlwind of a life. 

i know you can hear me

see me

Have you ever wondered where you are when you’ve been there for days or more? You forget, right? 

just like the reader can read me

You…

read me 

It’s…

quite write

You’re…

yes

Wait.

finally

Is it…

yes

It’s happening?

yes

But how-

they got one 

No way.

yes way

A new one?

yes

You’re sure about this?

yes

But that means…

yes

But not now?

right now

Now?

at this very moment.

Oh, crap.

yes

But… but not this, right?

this too

Wait, they’re reading this?

dont make me say it

Right now?

of course

But… that means I’m…

yes

But… 

dont say it

im sorry

But then I can’t help you.

you can

How???

you tell me

No. 

minus is up to something

Oh God. 

pretty much

Where are you now? 

in it

What does that mean?

no time

WAIT.

help the girl

help her

hide her

What?! How?! Where are you going?!

i need to do something

What?

open the logic and close the dream