hunteralaric | freedom in chains
It was dark beyond the veil. Dark and crowded, but somehow so along. A cacophony of silence mixed in with the whispered shouts of those who'd perished and the echoes of your own voice as you tried, tried and failed to answer the calls. Or have yours answered. The sounds bounced off invisible walls. All was invisible here; an oppressive darkness which sought only to hide and confuse, a darkness made to be feared. Maybe it wasn't so much the darkness, the endless sightlessness which closed in around you, pressed down on you until you could barely breath... Not that you needed to breath anymore. No, it wasn't that. You weren't afraid of the dark, you weren't afraid of the light. But, you were afraid of what slithered and creaked in the dark watches of the night. You were afraid of being so alone. But, you are alone. Who knows what you've spoken to the darkness, what you've cried and screamed in the sour stinging, clawings of the night. When all your existence seems to shrink, all your mind seems to close in around you. A cage, to hold some wild thing. That is what you fear, more than you believe.Â
You fear this now. Your fear coming to fruition with the whispered voices pressing down on your ears. You shout, scream, only echoes coming back. Distorted and gravelled. For a moment you could think it was a reply, a deeper voice that was digging into your nerves, a final reply. But, no. It's yours. Because you're the only one here, the only one here. The voices could be in your head, in your mind, in your memory. That's all you have now, your memories to keep your company. Your memories aren't the best of friends, the memories of pain, of gouging and scraping, claws digging deeper and deeper into your flesh. But, you don't remember the fire. There must've been one. An explosion to claim the life of your mother. Your fault. Your fault. Because, she wouldn't have been there had you not tried to be a hero, tried to be a hunter.Â
You killed your mother, sacrificed her for the cause. You told her to leave, but really you wanted her to stay. Because you were scared. You wanted her to stay with you until the end, and the end meant her death. Should she be here somewhere? In the darkness and the gloom? Or did she find her way to heaven, if there was such a thing. Did you deserve to go to heaven, a place for good. Not when such selfishness turned to murder. Maybe you do deserve this dark pit, self loathing pressing down like a giant hand. Squeezing you.
But, still you cry out, still you scream. Voice hoarse and sore. You can barely move. Is that your lack of will, or something else? Maybe you're just too scared to move. You've always considered yourself strong, but how come you can't even take a step away, why can't you break out of your darkness harness?Â
Again you call. Desperate. No-one's here to answer your call. No-one's ever going to answer.
