#gothic post

You have unread messages in certain channels. You check them, but you've read these messages before. You look at the time stamp, and realize they were sent after you last went offline. 

You get a notification that someone has @'d everyone. You check the server. There is no message @'ing everyone. You ask about it. The other members don't seem to know what you're talking about. 

You hear the notification ping even when your computer isn’t open. You look around to see if any of your friends have discord open. They do not. You realize you do not have your computer with you. You realize you do not know where you are, or how you got there. You hear the notification ping again, and it seems louder this time. You still can't find a source of the sound.

You're part of an empty server. You occasionally get notifications from it, but you check the channels, and there is nothing there. 

There's a voice channel, with only one person who's ever on. You join them one day, but they immediately mute themselves. You see them again the next day on the same voice channel, listening to a bot with a playlist composed only of empty silence. 

You get a notification that someone has @'d you. You can't remember joining the server it comes from, and you forget to check. The notification goes away. 

You attempt to try to join another server, but discord tells you that you are part of too many already. You try to leave servers to make more space, but new ones keep popping up in their place. You can't seem to remember ever joining any of them. 

You become friends with a user through a mutual server, and discover you both have the same favourite band. You find you have a lot in common, and start to regularly message each other. You decide to start spending more time on other social platforms, and gradually cease communication with your friend. One day, you learn that your favorite band recently released a new album, and you decide to use this as an excuse to start talking to your friend again. You find out that they've since deleted their account. You realize you can’t remember their name.

You click on a server. It's blank, the only thing there a "load more messages" sign. You click it, but no other messages load. They never do. There's nothing there.

There's a voice channel with no name. You go on it one day. There is no one else in the voice channel, nor are there any bots. All you hear is a low humming, but somehow, you understand that it's coming from something too complex and dark for you to comprehend. You are unable to sleep that night. The next day the voice channel is deleted. You ask about it. Nobody knows what you're talking about. There's no record of its existence in the logs. Some days you still think about that low humming, and the dread it conjures.

There are users who don’t talk in the channels or speak in the voice chats, who have been there since before you joined the server. They are always online. You can tell they are waiting, but for what, you aren’t sure. There are only two things you do know. The first is that when they do speak, eventually, that day will be your last. The other is that you are sure that day will be soon.

Is this a thing? Well I'll make it a thing.

> the gathering of old women at the front of the house hear the happy cries of a family not far. A marriage proposal has been accepted. They shake their heads as they whisper "dewha". ("They've taken her". Another woman is lost to marriage and no one interferes).

>there are mosques everywhere. The people who build them believe that for every prayer prayed there, their good deeds will rise. But everyone knows, it won't diminish their sin count. There is nothing more soul sucking than knowing that.

>there is animalistic anger in the fights that happen between family members. The animosity terrifies the children, hardens the teens and sets a fire in the souls of the adults. The cycle continues.

>but God forbid someone spits at a sister, back bites a mother, looks down on a son or cheats a father. There is nothing like the age old fury that becomes ignited in the family members as they move to defend. The savagery reminds the onlookers that although we are developing as a country, our roots are deeply imbeded in a blinded loyalty that belongs to our tribes and ancestors.

>everyone smiles. You must except their kindness and repay it tenfold. You don't know what happens if you don't do so. You're too scared to find out.

> the Imams lie about what's written in the Holy scripture. Even though the younger generation is learning how to read, they won't speak up.

>the sand storms arrive without a warning. You're in the middle of crossing a road when the cloud of sand sweeps over the area. You try to finish crossing the road but your cousin grabs you. Everything stops. The cars, the people, the birds and the horses. Once the storm has dispersed everything resumes to normal.

> the buildings have no roofs. There is no rain in this land, only droughts.

> "women are the devil's creation. That's why we deserve to be hurt". You bite your tongue and clench your hands as your aunt explains the Holy scripture. You bite harder because she's wrong, she's wrong, she's wrong. You taste blood in your mouth and see it seeping from your palms. You calm down.

>the pathways run red as once a year these people sacrifice a sheep to their God.

>you turn to talk to your mother in her language. Suddenly everyone's gaze is upon you. You ask your aunt about it. "they are allowed to look". You look back at them and they still stare. You lose.

> everyone's sick. Everyone has some sort of medication they must take. You ask your mom about it. "there's a phosphorus site near by. It's close to the town's water supply".

> you and your family are invited for dinner. You accept. No one ever declines an invitation.

> an infection sweeps the town. 67 children die. Your earphones aren't enough to block the screams of the mother nor the muttering of the words "black eye".

> no one speaks about the mentally ill boy next door. After fifteen summer holidays spent here you find out that his father had slammed his son's head so hard into the tiled wall that no one dares to look at the broken tiles when they come to visit the family.

> your mother never let's you drink tap water. The one time she sees you drinking it she shouts at you. Now you only ever drink bottled water from the shops.

You enter the same grocery store you’ve been going to for years. The layout is entirely different. You don’t recognize any of the employees. The only thing linking it to the previous times you’ve been here is the faded tile floor.

As you wander the aisles, you come to one that doesn’t have anything you need. You try to pass it, but you feel something take hold of your cart. You must walk down every aisle before you are allowed to leave.

The same song plays the entire time you are there. It is from a decade ago. Every time you try to focus on the lyrics, your mind feels fuzzy.

Someone is handing out samples. You accept the sample and enjoy it, but not enough to buy the product. You try to leave. The employee stares at you. You cannot leave. The pact has been made, and you must buy the product.

Your cart has a squeaky wheel. It always has a squeaky wheel. No other customer has a cart with a squeaky wheel.

Everyone buys bread and eggs and milk before a storm. You buy them, too. You already have some at home, but a storm is coming. You must buy bread and eggs and milk. A storm is coming.

Apples are on sale. Apples are always on sale. They are out of the kind you want. You continue shopping, only to realize that there are two bags of apples in your cart by the time you check out.