The eyes are the gateway to the mind.
Wait, no. That doesn't sound right.
The eyes are the gateway to the soul.
What is a mind,
without a soul?
The scroll had me in its grasp. But it wasn't tight. It was loose enough for me to wriggle and squirm, yet not tight enough to squeeze my soul out. It most definitely could. The power… I could feel it. The whispers were gone, but something else took their place. A presence. A being. No, not a being. An entity. Yes, that's it. It was watching me. Stalking me. But was it really so bad? It brought a sense of comfort, a sense of peace; security. I was in another place. Another world. I wanted to stay, but I couldn't. The presence forced me out, yet with it came temptation. Something in my mind told me that if I did what it asked, I could return. A moan escaped my mouth at the thought. Eternal peace. No more disturbances. Just black. Only black.
———————————————————————————————————————
Colours returned. No black. Just cruel reds and mocking blues. I was back in the old world. The miserable one.
I found my torn-up body lying underneath a tree just outside the village. But when did I get here?
There were letters carved into my thigh. Perfect calligraphy. I couldn't have done that. I slowly stood up, as the world shifted before my eyes. The grass became shattered glass, the dirt turned into smashed planks, and I was back. In the village.
If I can't trust my eyes, can I even trust myself?
No, trust only the darkness.
Yes, that was right, only the darkness was to be trusted.
———————————————————————————————————————
I opened the scroll.
There were words,
And symbols.
There was a message.
It didn't make sense.
Ɉnɘiqiɔɘɿ ɘʜɈ ɘɿɒ UOY bnɒ ɿɘϱnɘƨƨɘm ɘʜɈ ɘɿɒ υoγ ɘϱɒƨƨɘm ɘʜɈ ɘɿɒ υoY
It made sense.
———————————————————————————————————————
Something dragged me up from my peace. Not a hand, but a scent. Lavender? I opened my eyes. Then, colour. Waking me from the darkness that had previously consumed me. What had happened? I couldn't remember. Yet somehow, I felt as if a part of me was missing. Like something that was supposed to be there suddenly disappeared. As my mind started to process the colours and turn them into images, I saw a feminine face looming over me. Her pale face and her pursed lips looked down in an expression of something that could be mistaken for concern. Yet I knew. This woman was incapable of such feelings. She was my mother after all.
"What did you think you were doing?"
Her voice came from too far away, and too close. It echoed, but there were no walls. My head throbbed like it remembered something I hadn't thought of yet.
"You said you'd get the fruits and be back before dusk. Not only did I have to pull you from the soil at midnight, but you didn't even bring a single one. Not a single bite."
A pale, tight-skinned monster flickered into being where my mother's face had been, its eyes empty, its smile too wide, a grotesque mask that twisted her warmth in
to something cold and cruel. It vanished before I could fully grasp the horror, but its echo lingered deep in my bones. My mother continued like nothing had ever happened.
"And what was that black scroll you were holding? A man with no face offered ten coins for it, and you gave it nothing. We need coin. We need silence. You never bring either."
"Not like your father," she added. "He ran until he stopped existing. You just get caught in the middle."
"No…" was all I could say. "The black…"
"Ol' Jenkins lets fruit rot in piles, but reach for one and he screams like dying wood. He'll be gone soon. Then we'll be feasting on what's left of the world. That's how things are: wait for the rot, then eat what's soft."
I tried to look away, but the words stuck to my skin. They soaked into my thoughts. Her voice didn't stop. Her voice didn't end.
I looked at the wall.
There was a note.
The note was short. Just four words.
My name.
And then: 'Don't trust your black.'
———————————————————————————————————————
Hadn't this happened before? Or did it happen again?
———————————————————————————————————————
The next few days went by as normal. I played with my friends, went to school, and threw sharp obsidian rocks at passing strangers who wore hoods, concealing their faces. I tried to look under once.
Nothing was there.
Yet, the feeling that something was missing didn't disappear. Rather, it grew. It grew and it grew, a hole forming in me. Yet that hole was black. Pure black. The black I so desired. It would be so easy to give in to the black…
Maybe…
I should just give in.
There was a boy at the edge of the street. He looked just like me. His lips were moving…
He disappeared.
I shook my head and continued the game of soccer, resuming my position as goalkeeper, just in time to save the ball.
The ball was black.
I moved closer.
It ran.
I ran faster.
———————————————————————————————————————
Something's wrong…
I can't tell what.
I am free. I am whole.
Black is perfection.