The Day Before. (Undergoing Re-Writing as 01/11/22) (Sequences 1-4 finished)

THE IN-BETWEEN. THE COLD AND DARK WORLD. PART 3.

The In-Between. The Cold and Dark World. Part 3.

A cricket wakes me, grass in my mouth. It is dark and in a forest I am—no legs on me. I crawl and I weep as the stars, now so far above, once again twinkle down at me. I stop in place, as for what do I exist now as everything and nothing at all.

A dark sky glooms, a small wooden boat full of faces doomed. My friends. The lost and the marooned. They tell me stories of how to escape. I touch the water, I realize it's fake.

The cricket begins from one to another, many now—louder and louder. So loud they get, I cover my ears, and the sound splits. I wake up again. This time, on a beach, on an island—forget it.

I wake up again. These go by and by, and by. These are not what I have looked for, but the madness is taking control. Where is the truth? Is the truth even here? I jump into the water, and I wake up again.

I continue from this one and I walk and I walk, forever on. I try to get to something completely forgotten, but of course I am stopped. I hunt for the nothing, something and somewhat of fine kind of time, or this time, or the end of time—for my time is what I am using to continue on, to look for this something I think that I do not know at all, maybe it is obvious and I didn't know. But maybe there is something I should, or shouldn't know? If I knew, I would... I think. Maybe too.

I come up to two paths ahead. I stop. One is light, and one is darkened. I look back behind me, and nothing is there. I look back forward again, but nothing is there now either. I wait. It appears again. I run, and I feel my memories sprint. I wake up. My body aches all over and my ears ring. My eyes burn, as I slowly open them and I moan.

I drag and continue on, lost in thought—leaving behind what is left, and keep on. I trudge through the some mountains, darkened storm clouds. Lungs heavy, breath of ice—feet in snow. In so many places, everything grows. Nowhere at all, seemingly endless and boundless a journey it shows. Behind the darkness exists only a light, at the end of that light is time.

Lightening strikes this darkened path, once growling with thunder I heard in my ears, now it sears through the sky and the ground, like it has through the years. Hands cold, and body warm, melts the eyes my feet are torn. So it does, so once it adorned.

All of the sudden I am on this path again. It is dark, and the light from the next path haunts so close. So close, my memories are. So far we both have come, heading somewhere, apparently, stunned.

As I come to, I hear water rushing. I lift myself up, up off of the ground, as blood falls freely back to the Earth. What memories I had, I now have no more. What seemingly felt right is felt no more. A fall, I must've endured for sure, but I cannot recall. Nothing, nothing to know. Inside of a dream, a realm it would seem—a realm that was real, but was not real enough. Lost in thought, in endless time—imagined up by matter, lost again—repeating again and again, and again. Something bigger than anyone knows.

Darkness in chains, chemistry left. Ironically there is no mystery left. One last path, one more success. Big regret. Last breath. One last sight. Falling, tumbling. Breaking neck.