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[VISION] Endlessness

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wardyn

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[!] This post details a vision attained through RP with the Absolutist faith.  The contents of this vision are entirely personal to my character, and is private knowledge unless explicitly shared.

 

 

 

IN SNATCHES OF RAPT LUCIDITY, THROUGH THE BLOOD, THE TEARS, THE TORMENT, YOUR EYES LIFT UP TO THAT SCRATCH-MARK OF SKY BEYOND THE CHASM. 

 

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THE SKY ITSELF TURNS. SHIFTS. EXPANDS. 

 

The space between the stars stretches into utter absence. No longer are the cosmos, no longer are the clouds.  Stone borders yawn and crack, and that lip widens until those, too, are gone, swallowed by the All.

 

A great beyond shudders and curls into itself, and unfolds its wings to swallow YOU whole, too. 

 

And you are formless, 

and you are timeless, 

and you see nothing, 

long before it was anything at all. 

There is no up. 

There is no down.  

There is no orientation. There was never a beginning.  

There is no telling how much time passes. Because there is naught.

Beyond the borders of what is known, beyond what is unknown, something stirs.  

The outline of a great hand, impossibly shaped in this black murk, raises and outstretches. You do not see it, but you know it is there. 

 

ITS PALM OPENS. 

 

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From its center emerges a great light, a blinding flash of clarity, and it engulfs you entire. Suddenly you feel. 

You take your first breath, mucous, sticky, and you are screaming. You recognize nothing, you know nothing. Your throat is wet then dry, and your skin is hot and crawling. Your stomach roils and twists and rockets backwards. You clutch at the air as if it might stabilize you, and yet still your world quakes, and you are adrift in a great sea of bodies, flowing from a ruptured sac of life, unmentionable and uncontrollable and utterly untenable. 

 

The entirety of a life plays out before your eyes.

And it is so very brief, and so very minimal, 

that it is already over.  

 

You stare up at what you believe to be the sky, and blackness creeps into your vision in flashes and spots, and you are afraid. You are so, so very afraid. A hammering deluge of heart-beat muscle-twitch throat-shriek fear overtakes you, and it means nothing. Your gut gnaws at your flesh, and your synapses scream in electric horror, and your blood dribbles hot from your body, and you realize then that you are so

easily

Gone. 

 

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SO QUICKLY CAN SOMETHING RETURN TO NOTHING.

 

And the blackness beyond has not moved an inch. 

Indifferent, it takes you back.
It swallows your terror, it swallows your knowledge, it swallows your history, it swallows your being. 

 

And with every minute meaningless scream, 

the blackness grows blacker.  

It crackles at the seams.

It shrouds itself in an agonizing blanket. Shuddering. 

Eternity rolls onwards, forever and ever, painted over with a black layer of fear and acrid flesh-smoke. 

 

And there is no up, 

and there is no down, 

and there is no good, and there is no bad.

There is only absence. 

There will never be an ending.

There is no knowing how many times this has happened, or will happen. 

Because time is naught.

 

You feel that fear eating away at your very spirit. It paints the boundless tapestry of All, staining it darker than dark, doused in nothing but dread, and it cries out. 

Layers after layers after layers of ink cause it to shift its very hue. The great canvas starts to bleed. The very WRONGNESS of it all worms into your skinless skin, crawls underneath your keratinless nails. This is not how it should be. 

THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE. 

THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE. THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.

THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.  THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.  THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.  THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.  THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.  THIS IS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE.

THIS        IS        NOT        HOW        IT        SHOULD        BE.  

And yet it will never end.


 

Edited by wardyn
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