falling.

It feels strange. The air isn't, the wind that you would think would be around you isn't. It's just you, there is nothing here. An you can not escape. Maybe you could've done something else, but you wait. Wait for the end, wait for your life to cease for maybe, if you are lucky; it will.

You check your phone again. It's still dead, completely, you were carrying a backpack but everything in it is stone. Not usable. And somehow you know you won't starve. Atleast whatever force keeping you here assures you of that through the invasion of your thoughts.

You think back to your friends and family, what you could've done, what you should've done. It no longer matters and yet you still wish you could talk to them again. You weren't particularly close with anyone. Sure at some point you might have been. But now? No, you burned to many bridges. But is that not wat you deserve? To be alone forever more.

Sure you wish to be with others but you know that you aren't particularly the best person to be around. Maybe this is what was best for everyone. Atleast you think that. You don't actually know why you are here. If there is anything you did to deserve this.

It's boring here and you can sense you'll be here for a while yet.

You sing to yourself, melodies of sorrow and melancholy. You aren't dead you just can't leave this place but you are still here. All you can do is wait.

After a while of singing it starts to get boring. You check the watch, this isn't yours. The same alphabet seems to be on this and the watch looks ancient on your wrist.

Your backpack is getting uncomfortable, so you take it off. It's now falling? Along side you. There doesn't seem to be any friction here, no air dynamics. No way to speed up or slow down your descent.

You wish you could eat something right about now. That would be nice, wouldn't it? Maybe drink something. Juice would be good. But you know you won't get it. You aren't thirsty or hungry after all.

You feel in stasis. This place can't change can it. Can you? What is there for you to do here. Will you change will it matter? If a tree falls and no one can hear it. Did it fall? What will you do, does it matter? You can't stand it. How long have you been falling for. Does it matter has it been a while have you any idea of why it matters? You know you just want to see something else again. And yet you fall. And fall and fall.

You dream up places of wonder and it all feels fake like any imagination does. You had a good imagination while you were still free. And you still do. But nothing feels right. It doesn't feel true.

You had a good few projects you never got the chance to work on. But now you have nothing but time.

A world of fantasy perhaps? One of war and strife. With each new day bringing more and more magical advancements. Of course you can't write this down so you just think on it more and more.

It's a deeply complicated world where even in the worst of the worst there is still joy to be found. But it won't last sooner or later the world will die if the war keeps going on.

It sounds like a good idea to you but you have no one to share it with so does it really matter? You've loved before did you not? In one of the many possible ways you loved and cared for people. But now everyone feels so... Distant. And you can't do anything about it now, not that you would've before.

You didn't even get to pursue your dreams. You wished to be a writer, a published writer. But year by year, second by second while you wrote here and there you never did get published, barely wrote anything more than 10 thousand words or so. But that's ok. A few people read it and enjoyed it. It wasn't that you were necessarily a bad writer. It's just that you didn't have the time when you had the will, and didn't have the will when you had the time. And really... Is that not what life is? Forever wishing to do more, forever, no matter what doing something and feeling unfulfilled. Knowing you can do better. Knowing you should, and just simply; unable to do any of it to the lengths which you wish to achieve. But now you don't have the choice. It's like you have to settle for the least done.

You know though. That if you got out of this place, you wouldn't change anything, wouldn't suddenly write 500 pages of your ideals and fantasy. Your critiques and political points. Your manifesto, your book. Something which is as much you as you are it. Why would you? This won't change anything, you still wouldn't have the ability to do that. You have the time, you have the desire to do so.

But every time you sit down you are unable to write more than a few hundred words. But what do you do now? Just fall? Forever. You close your eyes and you can see it. Your imagination. You never realized how without any light whatsoever how wild it runs. Nothing can hurt you here and while you know this it still feels like you are being watched and in a way you are. Is the feeling of observation not the same in your mind as actual observation. Otherwise why would the religious fear a thing which they can not see and often times can not feel? No though. You know nothing is here. Nothing, not even oxygen, you aren't even here. Nothing is here how could you be here. You can;t be here, shouldn't be here, and yet you are it's tough the feeling of wrongness is fading though. It used to be grand but you realize you are getting used to it. And so you fall. Deeper and deeper, but in reality it doesn't matter. Does it? No matter how long you fall. You will still be falling. Maybe one day it won't seem like it, this will just be the norm and you'll get used to it.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

You aren't alone though, not in regards as to what you have that is. Instead you have a backpack full of stuff. You take out a chocolate bar, calcified? Oh well, you try to bite into it and yep, that's as hard as a rock. You throw it to see what happens and it seems like the answer is nothing. Until what you can only guess was a minute or so it hits you in the back. Seems like this space isn't infinite and simply loops over.

But you can't see anything other than your stuff, and you can't see mirrored versions of them anywhere. So who knows. You empty your backpack. Resting each piece on a table which doesn't exist. Keeping them at the same relative height. Of course everything here is falling, but that does not matter for the things around you.

You don't have much. A computer, your phone, a watch that isn't yours that hasn't moved it's hands in a while. Some notebooks that you never used. Coins, a few dollars, your credit and debit cards. Some art you bought and haven't done anything with. Indistinct and calcified. You had a candies, and some trailmix. You liked to be prepared. Your pen set. Now ruined and unusable. Not that you wrote on paper all that much. A few books for school. You've been out of school for a few months, just haven't done anything with them.

Trinkets here and there, a statue someone gave you. Some god for a cult they were in? Or maybe made? The lettering it looks familiar. Though foreign. It had english before. Infact now that you look at it. Everything that had writing on it is different. Fundamentally so. But oh well.

You miss the world. But the nothingness is growing on you. Everything about it isn't, and everything about it is. There is nothing here so there is everything here.

You are getting tired and sooner or later your eyes close. What else is there to do after all? --- you're in a gym, doing push ups like you do every day. Minding your own business, if you don't the owner will reprimand you. No fighting in the gym, no interrupting fights in the gym. Someone comes up to you. Covered in sports wear, something in a strange alphabet you now understand saying "let's a go the mario mario coalition" the fiercest team in go carting since the great Florida strafes.

"kid. What are you doing here?" the person, who you think is decently gruff and buff talks to you.

You answer the question. "doing pushups. To what is the reason which you ask?" that seemed to annoy him a bit? Oh well "well fancy pants. Your form sucks, you have only 4 limbs on the ground, you need 8. Or atleast switch which ones you use." "I do not seem to have more than 4." "you do. Watch" they get down right in front of me. Screaming yelling in pain, suddenly flesh bursts like a pack of yogurt, not blood but some kind of goo coming out of his back. Long arachnid like legs come out of him from said back. The goo is black, you can't see it and that's what makes it visible. He starts doing pushups with the 4 new legs and his arms. 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, and he is still at it.

Until finally he stops. "now. Your turn, extend those vertebrae resist change. Embrace tradition." you can't you try to but you just don't have what he does. You'll never be good enough, you weren't born that way. "I can't, I only have 4 limbs." "no you don't. Here, let me help you. The first time is always the hardest on the newly weds." he's walking over despite only being a few feet away it's taking a while. Must just be stress. And the finally he gets there "lay down. And let me help" you don't have a choice. He pushes you down to the ground. Your chest is sore the gym bro grabs 4 points in your back.

It hurts it hurts so much you cry out for help. He's pushing deeper and deeper into your back. It feels like his arms are all the way through your back. And then he rips.

No legs to be seen. Nothing here nor there, just blood and viscera your back is bleeding you no longer have kidneys and chunks of each lung are gone. It's painful, so very painful and yet you can't do anything about it.

You are going to pass out, before you do the man simply shakes his head; "guess I was wrong. Sorry kiddo. Better luck next time?" neither of you laugh, and yet it is still heard --- you jolt awake, what was that? It was vivid, really vivid. You reach for your back, everything is still there. Of course dreams can't even be a respite from this you can't even punch a wall or something.

It was interesting but now it's getting annoying. So very very annoying.

But you simply can't do anything about it. So you still fall. And fall, and fall.

Eventually you get an idea. There isn't much to do, not much to entertain. Perhaps pain would be a substitute. You bite hard on your wrist. You know there are things about how it can cause nerve damage if you aren't careful. But that hardly matters now. Does it? You expect pain. But nothing happens. Your teeth feel like they went through. But you don't feel any pain, and there is no bite mark when you release.

You do so again. Then you hit your arm with your other nothing.

You don't know what is more maddening. The nothingness or the fact you can't do anything with regards to your body.

Curious, and wishing to feel just something. You reach down into your pants. And try to masturbate...

It feels like nothing. Not even that has been afforded to you. Nothing but your mind is available.

You wish you could do something, anything. But alas you can not, you punch yourself in the head and it goes through, are you incorporeal. Nothing exists here after all. Why would you. And yet you can not fade away, can not do anything. Are you dead? Does it matter?