October 18, 2021

Verba ex Machina

words from the machine

One Bright Day, In the Middle of the Night, I Go

3 min read

Photo by simonwijers on Pixabay

You and your friend go out one day. He disappears in the dark forest near the river, you stay there for what feels like an eternity looking for him. Turns out you’re the one who died.

The next night, the sun rises high again, the moon sets again, and your body is no longer moving. It’s just a pile of bones and grasses in the grassy plain beneath the mountains. The moon is gone forever, and you don’t have anything left. Only the memory of what happened.

You walk slowly towards the valley, the only real light coming from an eerie light source in the hills. It has a weird, unsettling quality to it – almost alien. It feels like a vision, like something real, but somehow, you don’t really believe it. You’re never going to be able to trust any of your illusions again.

You don’t want to go any further. You know this. It’s not the first time you’ve been forced to face your mortality, but you feel like it was the last. You can’t deny that it is painful, you know. When you wake in the morning and the memories are clear and you’ve got all that stuff back, it is worse than just being dead. It is like you lost something more than anything else; you lost everything.

Photo by Comfreak on Pixabay

In the forest, the sun is up again, and the moon is not so bright in the sky. So, you go out again. But this time, it is cold, the sun goes down, and you just don’t know where you are anymore.

You think back to last night. And it doesn’t seem quite as bad anymore – until you open your eyes again. The darkness is coming back, slowly, but surely. The sun doesn’t rise again until the next day, but your eyes are still blinded by light that has long since passed by.

The next morning you wake up to an eerie feeling in your body, but the memory of the last night lingers. You don’t dare look down to look. A faint trickle of blood runs down your neck, and you can feel your pulse pounding on your skin.

After a few days it dawns on you, the reason why so many of your friends have died in the past was because you didn’t want to.

There are no signs of your friend. You’ve been buried in the graveyard so much your body is covered in bones. But that doesn’t make it anything special.

But you keep wondering where the rest of your friends are.

You had a chance.

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