An Eternity In Hell (In Space With Markiplier Drabble)
The darkness had stopped eating at him ages ago. He didnāt have a time. There wasnāt really time anymore. Days didnāt start and they didnāt end. There was no morning, no coffee, no evening, no sleep.
He was getting close to being finished. He knew they would be here soon, and that the moment would finally arrive. All the times - the only time, again and again - that heād seen them arrive. Called out to them only to see their shocked expression melt into nothingness and blue light. Every time - the only time - they were gone in an instant.
Heād been desperate to leave at first. Clawing at the door and banging away at the controls, pulling at panels and, every single time they arrived, heād jolt toward them, desperate to pull them close and have some kind of comfort again. But still, every time, they slipped out of his reach, and heād be alone again.
After a while, he ended up curled up in one of the corners. He was utterly alone, and he couldnāt make himself see why he should bother getting up. Moving. He didnāt eat. He didnāt sleep. He didnāt feel like he was aging. He didnāt feel anything at all but the endless exhaustion and terror, the cold floors.
He ran through every endless life then. Every death - jettisoned, suffocated, shot, frozen, burned alive, detonated, stretched beyond physical limitations, eaten, smashed - all of them played out over and over and over again. Sometimes he could feel his bones, old and brittle, and the slowing of his movements. He could see a cafe at the end of everything, getting darker and emptier as the stars around it winked into blackness.Ā
Every single time, they were there. They led the charge. They send him into danger. They met him at the table.Ā
They decided. Time after time after time after time, for all time, they decided.Ā
And it all ended in misery.Ā
He moved, finally. He stood, and pulled panels from the walls. Pulled circuits. Found the emergency tool stash and started building. Rewired the controls to feed into the central hub. Crafted the designs from memory, painstakingly, with aching hands that never got any rest.Ā
Still they showed up. Again and again, and every time, he had to stop and look. Had to call out. He couldnāt help himself. He built three soaring spires and connected them, used them as a focus and a kind of closed circuit to create a layer of shielding and containment.Ā
Finally it was done. It had power. It ran and its diagnostics, programmed from scratch, came through at 100% capacity. It was ready.
And there they were, right on schedule. He felt nothing and everything at once as he calmly pulled the extinguisher from the wall and took aim.Ā
yousharknotpass
baratheonpilled
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