Unrealized Reality Chapter 1

Restlessness, we all know the feeling. You feel if you stay still
one more moment, that the slight thread of sanity you once had might
snap. Slowly your wits leave you as each unbearably long minute goes
by. I've probably lost most of my sanity by now, that is if I ever had
sanity to begin with. Why do I say that you ask? *Hmmm I wonder.....
let's see I think you make voice number ....ay bloody hell there are
too many to count. Ay at least your someone....something to talk
to.
Frankly I expected a hell of alot more from death. Hell...huh....maybe
that's what this is supposed to be. Maybe along the way, I committed
some sin, so small, so insignificant that I didn't even think of
committing it to memory. But honestly is this all it is, no bright
tunnels, no eternal damnation,.... just this nothingness! If I could
just go back to all those times,.....no, no, ...no if only's, no could
of's, or should of's, none will help me here. I've done that enough, I
have replayed the memories over and over again. Why? That's all I can
do, think back to what was and what could of been.
But something, some inkling of instinct within me, tells me....no it
can't be. I mean I may not be learned or scholarly, but even common
sense would deny such an insane notion. So let me put the question to
you since I never had this sense, this common sense if you will.
Great... now I'm asking the voices in my head questions, ....well it's
not like I haven't done that before.
According to the supposed rules of reality, and all the logic and
scientific babble I can muster, I by all accounts should be dead. And
this nothingness does support that fact. But something, something keeps
on jarring this theory, some thought, some fact, I can't even name it
let alone explain it. It's the question that stays, the question that
haunts my mind.

Have you ever for a second, for a split moment in your life forgotten
if you were living, breathing, or dead?

Think about it....how do you really know? I've puzzled over it for
some time, and I can't answer it. Perchance this is some horrible
nightmare from which I have to awaken, or perhaps I have been forgotten
in the hoards of lost souls that have yet to be judged and sorted? Or
maybe this is some odd in between state, a period I must wait, a
sentence I must pay in exchange for something else? But what if this is
a time I must wait, then that means eyes, ears, and all those other
senses one unknowingly depends on will be restored to me.
Then I will be able to determine my state, and answer the question,
and maybe in doing so it will answer it for you as well. So you can
follow along, once and if my journey ever begins, for perhaps there is
something to be learned by you as well. Cause honestly have you ever
for a second.....
Light and dark interchange in split second intervals, one on top the
other, creating confusing layers, patterns of light that the human eye
is too slow to follow clearly. The dark clouded heavens roar with anger
as each streak of light escapes their grasp, and falls to the ground.
Water pours out of the sky, colliding with an endless amount of denser
objects, and shattering into a thousand smaller droplets. With each
brief instant of light, more of my surroundings, place, space, walls
enclosing me are revealed. But comprehension of where, and when I am;
my thoughts are distracted by the roars of thunder stalking light, and
the bullets of water striking the surface of some encasement, what
might as well be my tomb. The rain seems to explode with such a
constant untaming noise, that it seems that the very impact of the
water would bevel into, and through the roof of this unknown
structure.
When light does happen to grace me with it's fleeting presence, I am
able to witness the full horror of my prison. A circular room
consisting of unevenly cut granite blocks, megalithic in size, arranged
in negligent fashion, somehow support this sepulcher hopelessly
surrounding me. It is a desert of sorts, a barren place, even the
ceiling is void, exposing the skeleton of the gabled roof. Alone in the
darkness a solitary window waits, smothered with drooping glass, and
barred by rigid iron spears, crusted over by centuries of rust. All
background, anything beyond this room, prison, tomb, whatever name you
want to assign to this cursed place, is obscured. There is a great
wooden monster facing me, a mahogany door, with large, swollen hinges,
holding the wooden beast back from lunging at me. A great knob, and
massive lock are the monsters face, both by themselves as large as a
grown man's fist.
Why do I not go approach the door you ask? Do I know something you do
not, of something beyond it, whether it is locked or not, that
perchance I do not have the strength to? No. No I do not know any of
these things. My, you're persistent, Why?, you ask, Why, Why?, The door
right in front of you, you idiot, just go and open it! Don't deny it, I
know that is what you are thinking. The truth is I agree with you, why
can I not just get up and approach the door. The answer is I simply
can't. No, I am not frozen by fear, emotion, I am not so entranced by
the room that I do not notice the door, nor am I in any hypnotic or
narcotic state.
I see you're confused. The irony is I am just as confused as you. I
will not go into the intricate details of my life, but I will tell you
I remember living working, eating, sleeping, ...moving all those signs
of life, and then they all just stopped. Now does all that long drawn
out crap that I said before make sense now? For I am not certain if I
am truly dead, for I am fully aware of the comings and goings around
me. If I were a spirit, I would assume that I would be able to move,
float, glide, whatever spirits do, around. But no, I do not have this
freedom, it will sound like pure insanity, but it is almost like I am
frozen, like a statue, a gargoyle of some sort waiting to be
awakened.

Wait. Did you notice that at all.
I hear more than thunder.

No that is not just thunder. That is the sound, the foot of someone,
something landing on stone. They are still faint as children's whispers
though. It is rather difficult to distinguish any noise from this
raging cursed thunder. Creaking, like that of old door hinges. But not
of this door, no....not yet at least. The hard sudden clash of wood and
door frame mirrors that of the thunder. With each footstep the
collision of foot and ground grows louder, and the spaces between each
crash smaller, and smaller. It's like the very storm outside, the
closer it gets, the more the danger makes you aware of it's ominous
presence. Then...silence. Disregarding the storm, the horrid creatures
presence seems to have disappeared.
Chiming to some out of tune harmony, the sound of keys clanging
together. The clicking and clacking of some object being jammed,
forced, into the unwanting lock. Pounding, of the door's unknown
abuser, just beyond the barrier. The shoves, pushes, pounds, grumblings
and screams mold into one horrific noise. One solid pound, ...silence.
Deafening screeching, like that of dying birds, resonate throughout the
room, as the great door is dragged across the floor. The shrieking
reverses itself as the light from beyond the wooden monster is
swallowed, but not before revealing partially the silouhette of a
figure. Pure, uninterrupted darkness followed by my own paranoia. The
lightning seems to have slowed it's pace, at the one point it is most
crucial to possibly my very existence. Waiting, the shuffling of feet
aimlessly wandering, dragging across the floor is heard. Light decides
to come again, but only for an instantaneous visit every five, ten
seconds, according to my count. Silouhette of my tall, vindictive
attacker by the haunting window. His mere presence disturbs me, I feel
like prey being caged only to be freed when it's predator gets hungry.
And my attacker seems hungry alright, for quick violence on his part,
and my death. He chuckles to himself, as if the situation was the
pinnacle of his amusement, as he lets his upper body fall forward, only
for his weight to land on his outstretched arm on the windowsill. He
then regains his momentum, pushes off the sill, and with a careful
sense of balance catches himself in a standing position. The figure
drops down, beyond the light of the window, and emerges again, holding
a mace-like weapon in his hands, looking at it adoringly, as if it were
his own child. His deep voice pierces the sacred silence of my tomb,
"Why my lord..." the thunder interrupts him "what a precarious
situation" thunder juts into his speech "you've gotten yourself into."
The sly stranger pivots his leg, and turns towards me, his face
blanketed by the darkness, but the features of his malicious face still
visible in the darkness. He grasps the mace with two hands, pulls it
back behind him, and lets the spring action of his arm muscles do the
rest, the mace passing my face by mere centimeters. Then with a roar of
laughter, he repositions himself, takes a step closer, raises the mace
back beyond his head, " Tell me....have you ever for a second..."
Letting gravity take it's course, the mace comes plummeting down.
Shattering, and the bittersweet chime of brittle material shattering
and scattering about the floor. But I haven't felt the mace yet, by
some strange force, or power movement is restored to me. Arching my
neck back, I see the mass of metal racing towards me, engulfing my
view. Vision changes instantly from mace to ground, as my primal
instincts kick in, and legs push off ground, as my body folds
underneath itself, and rolls out of the way. Just how close I came to
my life being cut short was realized as I could feel the gust of
violent wind made by the thrust of the weapon on my back. Shit, that
would have made the story short, wouldn't it. Wait, what am I talking
about that would have cut my life sh.... Instinct takes over as my
attacker continually pivots his leg, rotates his body, and throws the
serrated weight down, as I throw myself towards the ground and back up
again. The cycle continues around the room, with me weaving my torso
and legs around each other, and my attacker rotating from his
stationary standing point. A perverted time piece where the hands
attempt to pin down the numbers as they race by. A twisted sinister
harmony is created with two small crashes always followed by one
deafening one. From my skewed, blurred vision, the figure is swallowed
by the blackness, and from my low perspective it looks like the moon
repeatedly plummets from the sky and flies up to the sky only to surge
down again. I think he gave up trying to kill me, and is just satisfied
with maiming me, resting a bit ... and then killing me. Either way it's
the same result,.....I'm screwed. Oh good he's getting tired you say,
yeah well that helps if...Come on who's the one rolling around the
entire room. How about you tr..... The mace hovering over the sinister
stranger's head, he pauses, then thrusts his arms down. Again I lunge
forward towards the ground. Did you hear the mace hit though? The metal
moon is saved from striking the ground, as his hands catch the handle
and tighten around it, center of gravity shifts, dependent on single
pivoted leg and as his torso is twisting all his weight forcing it up
and out. The metal moon consumes my vision. I lunge my torso back,
letting go of my sense of balance and allow myself to collapse to the
ground. Collecting all his breath, he vomits his voice letting it spill
throughout the room, "Death, you...Now!" Parallel to the stone floor,
the uneven, jagged surface of it stabs my back, forcefully persuading
me to take action. Him being distracted by his own dialogue, gives me a
thread's worth advantage over him. I clamp his one pivoted leg between
my own lower legs . In a split second motion, I propel one arm towards
the ground, flipping my body from back to front. The sudden propulsion
offsets his precarious sense of balance just enough to throw his leg
out from under him. There is a distinctive thud heard, and the wall
vibrates slightly, as his head strikes the floor. A The final crash was
heard as the mace left another dent in the floor. Now I lay here
contemplating what to do next. Actually no, let me say it bluntly, the
unconcious body of my attacker laying here flayed across me, wondering
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!!!! Calm down!!... would you calm down
if you were in my position! Ok,..... bbrr....reathe, ....i'm ok .
Alright first... get off the body. Check. hmmm, now what can I do with
the mace. Wrapping my hands around the handle, I drag the serrated
weight across the floor, leaving a trail of destruction in it's wake.
Approaching the door, I let the mace's handle succumb to gravity, and
wrench my hands, and pivot my legs to drag the monster of a door out of
it's confinement. The door felt the mass of fifty iron weights, and it
was so massive that it could not even be contained by the door frame,
for the bottom scraped, and splintered against the floor. I swing
around the the side, one hand remaining on the door, the other jamming
the weight of the mace underneath the door, until it is at the pivot
point between door and frame. Once the door is caged and the space
between door and wall suffocated, I would not have the power to open
it. I am standing between two worlds, I know what lies back there, but
have no idea what other traps the world ahead has in store for me. At
least in I have a better chance for survival than back there.
Are you coming?