Neverending nightmares. Quick one, trying second person. An extension of what was once a conceptual ending to Sacrificial Grounds. It was a decent ending, but the current one is better. Don’t really care how it turns out, I think the atmosphere is pretty cool.
Neverending nightmares
The meat is unpleasant to chew, it feels and tastes like rubber. You don’t care, though, you’ve eaten worse. You’ve been through worse.
It’s only been a few minutes, but you’ve already forgotten what the creature had looked like. You bite into something hard and small. A bullet used by you to end its life.
A small torch nailed to the brown brick is using its feeble flame to remind you of the claustrophobic hall you wound up in. You should be able to find the exit of this fortress soon.
What exactly are you doing round here? Travelling between slipgates. Killing creatures in your way.
Why? Because there is no other choice. You don’t remember how you got stuck here anymore.
Your guns are still working. When you run out of ammo, you use your hands. Sometimes you will go to rest, and when you wake up, the weapons will be loaded again. Hostile beings will fight you and you will sometimes get hurt. Wounds are painful, but they mend quick. It doesn’t feel like something that should be happening, but you’ve stopped questioning it. You will not get answers, and you’ve accepted it. You had no choice. It’s like an invisible force wants you to keep going and has laid out a script for your experiences.
Who are you to say it doesn’t make sense? Nobody’s judging your sanity anyway.
Have you thought about just shooting yourself in the dome? Yes, you have. A lot. But will that really solve anything? You’re actually kind of curious what’s behind the next corner.
You keep a photo of times past. It depicts two creatures. They look a lot like you. Those were called… humans, right? Why do you have it? You’ve forgotten. Who were they? You’ve forgotten. But you don’t want to lose it.
There was something before this path of tribulation… there were different times. This is your life. You’re used to it.
Bits of flesh are strewn about, crawling with insects already. The large bricks were brown, now they’re red and black.
The blood on the ground reflects your face.
Barely any features are still there. The skin is a blank and white tapestry strung over the jagged bones. Eyes are wide open and too red; eyelids missing. Nose reduced to two long slits in the centre. Horrible visage is completed by a mouthhole, which is disgustingly wide and gaping with blackness. Nobody would call you a human at this point.
But, it doesn’t matter.
You’re a dead man for all you know.
You pick up the guns from the bloodbath. And soldier on.
Jan. 13.08.2020