A chasm of darkness. Forever falling, some of the unexplainable. Or the overly explainable. Images of Ms. Murr trailing red. Mr. Frock set ablaze. Charlie with points of knives. Falling with no end, going down, down, down. Or is the world moving up while I stay here? Possibly both? A warmness trickles down my arm and runs off my fingertips. "Anne". My new friends advance, accepted with open arms. Closer and closer, yet farther and farther away. A never ending cycle.
White. Yes, white. Only white, nothing but white, white white white. White in tail coats. White with monocles. White with top hats. Surrounded. Taken. Had I been falling? Up or down? My children had disappeared as soon as the white dribbled in, dribbling, dribbling, containing. "Anne." Who is this Anne? "Anne." Is she me? Or possibly she isn't me? Is she we? The white? "Anne." Drip, drip, drip. All I hear. Drip, drip, drip.
Who am I? And who are you? Are you I, and I you? Drip, drip, drip. Water. Blood. Wine. All that exists is the drip drip. Drip, drip, drip. Confinement. Yes. That's it. You are confinement. Should I fight you? Accept you? Do nothing? Drip, drip, drip. The white dribbles in again. No. I fight you. I will not accept it. I pull at my chains. What is this? Hysteria? Desperation? Madness? I will break the chains.
The white continues to dribble, dribble. Mind numbing, the dribble. Just as the drip drip.
Warm ripples through my veins. More numb.
The rabbits. They crowd. Devouring me bit by bit. How I miss the chasm. "Anne." The constant drip drip in maddening. More than already is. As I drag through the white, Ms. Murr penetrates the insanity. Or possibly sanity in disguise. Red flows swiftly through the crowd. Have I gone even madder? Is such a thing possible? Drip drip.
Charlie. My dearest Charlie. Your smile is absolutely heartwarming. Your pearly whites are quite exquisite today. Could you possibly know where I am? Or who you may be? Ms. Murr seems to know, but she refuses to speak. Mr. Frock is nowhere to be seen and you seem to be the only one in sorts. Who am I? What is the drip drip? Drip drip.
I seem to be flying. White wings wide above a defiant world. Yet, I seem trapped. Set in motion by the white and the white alone. Is it possible to be both? Is it possible to be none? Is it possible I am simply dreaming? In a hallucination induced by too much paint? I do enjoy my paint. Am I at home, right now, in my bed? It surely is lumpy. A little too lumpy.
The rabbits have stopped. So have I. Tossed aside for the time being. Shall I contemplate more? Will I just become more confused? More hysterical? More mad? Bonkers? Off of my rocker? I think I'm already there. The drip drip has stopped. In fact, it seems the world has stopped. Only me. One question remains. Who. Am. I?
A/N: I'm confusing myself right now, so I have no idea what you must be thinking. I literally could not sleep knowing that this was still jammed in a deep crevice of my mind. I'm dead serious, it's, like, 2 in the morning, and I'm sitting here, typing this up instead of sleeping. That's how bad it is. What do you think is happening here? Put it in the comments and I'll probably end up giving a shout-out to whoever is closest depending on how many people comment. I'll keep doing this throughout the entire story and then I'll do a final post explaining what I'm trying to get at.
Stay trippy. -Me
