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Voices were echoing far, far in the distance.
“ ”
Voices that he could not identify. Male, female, young, old? Were they coming from above him or below him? He couldn’t say. It sounded like a battle cry. Then it was more like a grieving wail. A scream, a sob, an enraged bellow, a jagged lamentation.
All these sounds rained down around him like a waterfall, crashed over him like a giant wave, swirled around him like an inescapable vortex. It was almost like someone he had finally met after a long, long time was opening up about everything they had held back for years.
And, swallowed up by the unending deluge of voices, he lost track of where he even was.
“ ”
Hands, legs, head, bottom, chest, back—it all blurred together. In that enormous swell of voices, his sense of self was gradually melting away, losing shape. He was becoming indistinct, fading and scattering until the countless voices were all that remained.
The voices became dark and stagnant, intent on breaking down his identity, reducing and draining it. He was sinking into that darkness, unable to resist. But right when he was about to resign himself to merciful oblivion, he realized there was a thread bound inextricably around his core that rejected the stagnation around him.
“ ”
There was something writhing deep inside him, a thread that refused to stop fighting the black stagnation—the two forces claimed ownership of his self, fighting, each trying to steal him away, to kill the other off.
And then finally…finally—
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