Ā Ā He could feel ants crawling inside the maze of his skull, and one day he awoke pulling at a golden thread hanging from his ear. Somewhere in his half-dream-half-awake state, he must have started to unravel. Quite literally, it would seem. None of his dreams had seemed particularly noteworthy the night before. A little bit of semi-lucid flight, an almost-wet-dream that turned into a nightmare when his dream-girlfriend came home to find dream-him sleeping with her-dream-sister. Nothing special, really.
Ā Ā He tried to pull the thread. It snapped back like a rubber band, flicking him directly in the eyeball.
Ā Ā "What the fuck? Son of a WHORE!"
Ā Ā Holding his hand up to his left eye, he stumbled into the bathroom to look in the mirror. Nothing about him seemed different, save for the thread coming out his ear. He pried his eye open to check the damage. Surprisingly, there was no redness or inflammation as he'd expected. The only thing different was a blue eye where a brown one used to be.
Ā Ā --What.... the fuck?--
Ā Ā As he leaned in closer to the mirror, he noticed the veins in his now blue eye. They were moving. Each vein squirmed independently, occasionally peeling off the surface to crawl further around his sclera.
Ā Ā --It's crawling. It's goddamn crawling around my goddamn eye. What the shit is this?--
Ā Ā The thread twitched. It started to flow out from his ear, snaking around an invisible tree and back around to meet his new eye.
[Everything is swaying. Everything is moving back and forth, pushed by a strange, dark purple vapor. Massive black strands of a kelp-like substance twisting themselves in the dark air, pushing up to the only source of light: a harlequin green moon, filling every streak between every Mardi-Gras-purple cloud with a fel glow.]
The thread continued to stare into his eye. Unwavering in its fixation, it began to flow out of his ear, down to the floor, and formed a knotted puddle on the ground.
--Did someone put something in my drink last night? Seriously. I bet it was Jake. Fucking Jake.--
[He steps forward and wades through the slag air. Something dark, massive black and grey is fighting the moon. Fighting for light. Fighting to suck in the green glow and spit it back out as greyblack.]
A pair of ovoid tumors swelled in the center of the puddle, the thread coiling and wrapping around itself. They slowly grew in size, forming two pillars.Ā
[He pushes himself forwards through the swirling, viscous atmosphere, trying to find any trace of... something. Anything. Anything but this swimming black-purple-grey. A shelter, a cave, a source of light other than the dissolving moon. He tests a stalk of the black kelp to see if it would hold his weight. The leaves barely even react to his presence, only continue to sway in their own timing. He pulls himself higher and higher towards the green moon,until he notices that he has become weightless, untrammeled of the resistance he had experienced with horizontal movement.]
The shining pillars grew in size, reaching up past the bathroom counter, before arching inwards to connect to one another. Newly connected, they became a single tree-trunk mass of gold filament that had weaved itself into existence. The shining construct sprouted on each side to form branches. To form arms. A head. Fingers.
[He screams into the twisting nether, having reached the highest point.
[Gasping to catch breath that doesn't exist, he screams into the void. Each word that spills out of mouth comes out in a muted tone, one that makes him wonder if he's really speaking or just imagining it.]
[His voice should be hoarse by now. All signs indicate that no, he is not making a sound. From the top of the kelp, he watches the black mass begin to engulf the sun. All colors fade. Everything turns greyblack. He is alone in the darkness, stranded on the precipice of the dying other.]
The body stood before him, head back, mouth wide open, host to the watching thread where a tongue should be. The flowing of the thread had stopped. The last few inches slid down to the floor, writhing and twitching, before joining the rest of its body. The body clasped its hands together, before pulling them apart. From the center of each palm came a single thread.
[He climbs back down to the ground, and notices that the air has become considerably less gelatinous and more... Languid? Stale? There is no sound. The black kelp stops swaying.]
The palm-strings formed a cats cradle, and the body clasped its hands together again. The hands reopened to reveal a single, glowing ball, suspended on each side by a single thread. The body opened its arms wide, and the ball grew to match. It floated forwards. His mouth opened. The ball engulfed him.
[The greyblack mass has consumed the moon. From the center of the grey-black, a hole opens. The void grows larger. From the void comes a flame. Writhing, flailing, tendrils of flame reach down to wind themselves around each stalk of kelp, and set them alight. The fire burns everything around him, eatless and silent. He takes a step toward the onflagration, and reaches his hand out to feel the trange, cold wind flowing from each lick of flame. An ember jumps onto his arm, and his arm bursts into flame like newspaper. The fire spreads, consuming him, and shitting out white ash in its wake.]
The body closed its mouth, wove a portal from the ball, and took a single step forward, disappearing into the other. He was gone.
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