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Isaiah Lake
December 7th, 2011, 11:59 PM
At first glance, my eyes were met by a splash of dull color chipping off the walls of my new world. Through thickly laden fog, I made way into a broken town that whispered the names of the damned into my ears. Blood was trickling through cracks of the broken asphalt under my feet, and the dead had been unearthed to dance once again.

The night of solstice found me in its rituals as devils danced in obscure patterns among town square as they whispered mute words to the spirit of Man in effort to corrupt the soul. I walked on for hours, listlessly counting the bruised faces. No one seemed to notice my presence, and I made no attempt to communicate. I couldnít remember how I came to be here. In fact, I couldnít remember much at all. I didnít want to remember anything.

I donít know how I got there or why, but in the morning, I woke in a desert of space. The ground was covered in white tile for miles around. I could see nothing. Even the sun was lost somewhere in the cloudless sky as it bore down upon me with full intensity. I began to walk, and for hours, I saw nothing, but as I closed my eyes once, a blur shot through my eyes as my blood chilled, and I again opened them to a dull world that felt familiar. Daze obscured my mind as I walked past burning houses. No moon was present in this sky, but a shower of bombs closing in around the city illuminated my path. For a moment, I thought I had seen the Statue of Liberty, but with a blink, it was gone. I didnít care what would happen to me. I just wanted to leave that place, so I kept walking.

In the windows of old stores, televisions displayed scenes of chaos. They showed security footage of the places I stood, and as I watched, men would murder each other in silence exactly in my place. I could look around and see families through the windows of their homes, but flames engulfed them as they cried together in agony. I spoke to one man who stared at me without speaking. He might have spoken, but as he looked at me, a thread began to stitch itself through his gray lips, and he writhed on the side of the street he had sat upon. As he did so, a mob closed in around us. They began beating him with bats and chains until blood was spattered on their faces.

I closed my eyes and began to vomit. As I reopened them, I was in my own office building, regurgitating into a trash can. A wave of relief rushed over me as I realized where I was. I thought I must have dozed off with a bad virus, and I got up and went to the bathroom, but as I opened the door to my office, I began to fall until I smacked the concrete of the sidewalk thirty-three floors below. My nose poured blood, but I wasnít dead. I stood up and began running frantically. Suddenly, my world had once again lapsed into a nightmare. Buildings were crumbling, and I found myself being chased by police officers. I kept running faster than I ever had before until I met forces with a taxicab that put me completely through its windshield. It screeched to a stop as the officers yanked me out and beat me with their bludgeons. I sobbed for hours as I could feel nothing but the thuds of their blows.

When the beating stopped, I woke up on a cold, steel table as a light blinded my eyes. Suddenly, a stinging pain bit into my chest as a man dressed in camouflage stood over me, pressing a scalpel to my torso. He proceeded to cut deeper and drag the rusty blade through my chest until he had created an incision large enough to remove my heart. He cut the arteries, and freed the heart. He removed his surgical mask and began to devour the heart. I could feel every bite cut into me as his face began to drip blood.

I screamed violently until I couldnít feel anything else. Everything was numb. I just felt dead, but as I opened my eyes, I once again found myself in the desert of tiled emptiness. I was thirsty, but there was nothing. I could not remember who I was. I was lost, and now, I just wanted to die, but I could not. All I could do was lie on the tiled ground, wishing there was someone there, wishing that I was dead.

Punnikin
December 11th, 2011, 09:48 PM
My feelings on reading this: No real explanation as to what is going on. Is this a dream, an alternate reality, what? Does this person have no emotion at all? I can understand that using shifting scenery can convey confusion, but this was so disjointed that there was nothing at all to follow. It's as if there should be a paragraph between each explaining how and why the subject is traveling, or seems to be traveling, to these new worlds. In some he exists, in some he observes, but soon he finds himself concreted into one where he is the subject and narrator.
It's incredibly difficult to feel anything but confusion, and not for the benefit of the story, but for the meaning.
To me, this isn't a story. It's a hasty explanation as to why something not mentioned may or may not have occurred, and it needs more. It has a great idea behind it, but it lacks the flesh to move itself around, as it were. This is an outline for a great tale, but as it stands, it's not a story. It's a good piece of a great one.

Kevin
December 12th, 2011, 01:31 AM
My take on it: It's Hell, a personal version of it. Probably comes customized for each "resident". He's dead already. It's never ending torment and such. Excellent visuals. The white tiled "nowhere" reminds me of the detention center in "THX1138". What's he feeling? confusion and despair; fear, pain and torment...

justbishop
December 13th, 2011, 05:17 PM
As the previous comment stated, I find the narrator to be oddly emotionless, even when it's said that he'd sobbed for hours. It also seems a bit disjointed (which is possibly what you were going for), and way too...I don't know, linear? Like "this happened, then this, then this", but without much compelling me to want to know what is coming next.

The visuals are great, though!