Monoland: Into the Gray Horizon

2. EMPTY PALETTE

I looked around to understand my whereabouts, though I stayed in the room.

My room, though everything had turned grey - I could not spot one single dot of colour.

Some of my things had also changed in appearance - my cell-phone, television and lap-top were all still in the room, but now appeared different... as though in some sort of deep, dark glow. That same glow also emanated from the plants, and when I went to the kitchen, I saw it in the mirror, and even from the fridge.

Without any idea what this might be, for my own sanity, I chose not to hang onto it - I knew enough to know that things would be hard to understand for me... a newcomer.

Inspection of the kitchen revealed even further differences: the wallpaper had become monochrome; the pictures upon it still bore images, but devoid of any colour - grey had washed the room clean of all signs of living. I began to see the room very differently; new detail now compensated for the lack of colours: I noticed cracks on the floor; I noticed how tasteless the paintings looked, when layers of colour did not hide the preceding mistakes of the artist.

And not just to look at: to the touch, too. Everything - the furniture, my belongings on the shelves, my clothes here and there - became firmly fixed with the rest of the interior. I tried to pick up a T-shirt from the chair, but it became a part and didn't move - even the creases of the shirt became absolute.

As a sculpture made of stone, I watched as my home became monolith, with strange, glowing portals which I was too scared to approach.

I could not bear to think what would come next with death, and I preferred not to force the next step.

It was these thoughts which brought me to one I couldn't believe I hadn't addressed earlier: my body!

I ran back into the living room and checked the flesh I had last existed in: nothing – it simply wasn't visible to me.

I couldn't understand any of this; I needed more time to accept it, and preferably someone to explain. We always need time in life - who said it would be any different in the afterlife?

In the corner, I noticed another dark, glowing source, from the place where my friend's guitar rested. He forgot it a little while ago, and said he would get it back quite soon. What in common had all these items - those which glowed? So many questions, and no-one who could give me any answers.

Is this hell? I wondered.

No light from above, or any pit of fire below. No abyss or void did devour me, and I was still in my room, with no chance to get out, nor to touch a thing in this monolith. If I were to enter the Underworld now, I would do so wearing my underwear and slippers.

I had a strange thought: When my landlord comes to investigate, I might slip outside... and there I might meet others just like me. It would be good to - somehow - dress before going outside.

Now strangely excited and nervous, though the feeling was very different to that when alive - I mean completely; I didn't feel the pulse, the heart beating or my hard breathing. Yet, still, I continued to breathe, superficially: inhale... exhale...

Was blood still pumping through my veins? Were my lungs still delivering oxygen to my body? I had no pulse; no heartbeat.

To experiment, I pinched myself, and I felt the itch! I kicked the table, and felt a sudden pain in my delicate toes. Slightly limping, on my way from the table to the chair, I summarized my experience:

#2nd impression: Death is absurd.

Sitting on the chair, I added another question to the thousands already standing in line - that of time; was it running faster or slower? Maybe not moving at all? Maybe everything had just stopped? That would explain the petrified surroundings. I suddenly recalled my wristwatch, left on the bedside table, and in less than a second, I was stood above it, staring, and laughing...

...uncontrollably... hysterically..!

The watch had no hands - only a deep, dark whirlpool of a face. Laughing at me, as I laughed at it.

I decided I would count time myself, if I were to avoid getting lost in it - I had always been chronologically accurate whilst still alive, so I thought it shouldn't be a problem for me.

I decided to have a cup of tea while waiting for... the unknown. But with each step to the kitchen, I slowed my pace, trying to put it off as long as possible, knowing in my heart I would not be able to pick up the cup or switch on the kettle. A greater shock, this, than death itself: no more tea or coffee! How am I supposed to exist in such a world!?

I covered my face with my palms, and slid down the wall. Sitting on the floor, I wanted desperately to see colours again when I opened my eyes. I wanted to die some other day - some other way.

So frightened, thinking about my whereabouts, about the thing that happened to me, and how my body and brain reacted to it. So scared, and yet, for reasons unknown, so calm.

Losing coffee or tea is everything, metaphorically; it is a ritual – even losing the littlest ritual makes one think of a dozen other sacred rituals one had, and would never have again.

#3rd impression: Death is unbearable.

'I intend to live forever - so far, so good!'

Steven Wright (if I'm not mistaken)

*

Time (or maybe not) passed by.

Long or not, enough of it had passed for me to recall the main checkpoints of my life, and a couple of other occasions.

I looked up as I heard the apartment's entrance door open. I guessed I had probably been here a while - perhaps the landlord or police had come by to check the source of the smell, guided by my neighbours' complaints.

I rushed to the door in four big steps; then, in front of the door, I froze.

What happens next?

The door opened, and a girl was standing in front of me.

'Hey! Sorry I'm late.'