"Hello, Sir Laphey. How are you? Do you remember anything?" Something starts to pronounce words.
"I don't know anything..." He answers immediately, then he thinks.
"Very great, congrats boy! You fucked your life and enter endless universe of not suffering because of your personal and social psychological inferno." Responded it in the speed like typewriter.
"What will happen after that?" He asks with a mouthful fear.
"Silence, only nifty and copacetic silence, without any chugging co-workers, gossiping neighbors, disloyal friends and disappeared family." Answer causes shock like watching a someone being raped when you are a little kid.
"Forget it. It's nonsense. Nothing happened. Nothing is happening. Nothing will happen. But you can be beyond time and space, isn't it, cock n rock star?!" Limbic grey shit comes into schizophrenic existential conversation.
"It makes sense...." But it doesn't.
"Which object or idea has damn sense? You want it, this extremely satisfying act of surrender in front of your fate." says Limbo's embassador.
"Fate.... But what is my past?" Again and again, he is being a recipient of the past trauma.
"Yes. Babe. Burn your microtapes in your almost half century aged archive. Burn it, baby, burn! To gain transcendence of the suprahumáne! There is no need for returning to be rat, and live in a life worse than even dying rat laying hopelessly under plague infected village after Nowherenesville, in Lonesome Road near your resting castle." says Sire Old Personally With Honour Fucked Brain that he has won the just.
"I don't want it. I want to return to there again forever." But his phantom pain makes him remember subjective emotions rather than that of the rational modernist would.
"Do you know the chances of death after waking up and scornfully regarded personality of yours?" it asks, because he knows about what class of shit is happening here.
"It is sounds like menace rather than something good" he doesn't want to perceive despair of sad and dismal reality that isn't willed to embrace him.
"You are our friend. Don't behave yourself as a knight with shining plates and who fucks every second princess or witch he meets. Kick out this materialistic life as materialistic garbage after staying in one star toilet, after eating the most expensive and shittest tomatoes in your doomed existence." But idealism isn't always the exit to sustainable life, but its stagnation.
"I amn't interested in non-being, there are still people who I...." He enters to the cabinet of thoughts trying to find documents under the name "friends", but all cases are unknown and locked, and the key is forgotten.
"Who what! What, shit, who like or even need you?! There is noone who need you, except your inner friends, who love and care about not only about your state, but you!" Answers like a micro dick.
"And even don't say about the God. God isn't here and there. God is everywhere, but it is a conversation only for us - your inner friends." It goes on with tone trying to regard him as a painstaking regressing creature.
"The world doesn't care about God. You are forgotten, even by Him, so you are worthless piece of shit. It is better to get away, nor hell or paradise. Just void." Its response occurs in the centre of neural center, like an under bed space overfilled with cockroaches.
"I.... I fear it. I don't want. I dunno want this shit! Get out of my mind you bitches!" He should have said "my sapiens head" or "human shit in the skull" instead.
"Well, as you wish." Says as capitulating emperor.
"But remember...." It begins with stupid trial to be mystery motherfucker.
"All your choices are your..." Prehistoric brain rises its inner voice.
"Fate. Shitpeddling fate, funky dick! Yeah...." Then silence comes with gradual steps, maybe annihilation of the civilization also.
The mix of darkness and light starts to mix with each other. They form the gray - gray, pimping, tremendously diminutival world in the centre of vacuum filled with cosmic dust. Luna and Achates are being wended by gravitational sphere of the pyramis. Nihilsm tries to overthrow the world government, but they are just joked by dudes.
"I had been waiting for this. So many winters and so many summers." Says someone with low voice of knight.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Who are you? Are you an angel to take my life?" Despair saturates in his veins till it becomes haemostatic.
"No. I am another thing. Do you remember me? Shadow and face of your true soul.... Nope? Such a pity, but thankfully our contract is still in force, between me and thou. You was on the edge of the edge, isn't it? Do you want to revive the term of our deal?" It mentions it like a seller with superfluous obstructiveness if it dies with rejection, which is ironically true, and not bullshit being told by some pung-eating infentile people.
Suddenly, in the middle of nonsense, the pine table appears as the first quark of the universe. Sheet, not shit, but jurisdiction related sheet of contract appears also as Big Bang, not hamburger. The line of light illuminates the table and two chairs. He sits on first blue or velvet chair and the document is towards his unconscious spiritual embodiment. Figure of the person with gray hood appeares on the other side - as the yarmoseck through the crowd of yarmian children in concentration kindergarten.
After removing this mysterious hood, photons of light stream spreads on the face of this creature - woman, about middle thirties, with odd, and even weird, rufous hairs, small nose and gorgeous yellow eyes - why she seems to be abnormal? Her face appears to be familiar, but consciousness can't reach to the depths of old good amygdala. Although her appearance seems to be pretty sexual, however, she is as hoe valiant - the peak of the stoicism. Then, like after thousand of years, her voice destroys deafening silence of nowhere.
"Welcome." She begins with silent aphrodisiac anodes, like she is star and works in a prestigious and extravagant opera house, like in Mijalien, the capital of Nebexia.
"Hel... Hello. Thanks for welcoming." He tries to return to his akin ancestors, who could be Monsieur to Milady, then, as other invariably do, act of reproduction for political, national, economical reasons or for jouissance.
"It is nonsense, but I think that you have some questions about everything here.. or nowhere." She knows in what kind of existential shit he is, with his amnesia, or maybe dementia... No, no one thinks that this shit would happen.
"Well, could you explain it, please." Please.. Such a satisfying word. Like a sugar with cacao igirish tea - very great and even invaluable essence of the atoms of biological matters.
"It is your cozy Zone, if I add a bit abstraction." She answeres with a slim smile.
"Zone? What the..." he makes emergency stop, as the defensive mechanism against something dark, much more darker than ater with full concentration of melanin in a biomass.
Little room appears here, a soundless and pale room, which is reminding him something sacred and terrible. There is colourless bed and nightstand, but in the distance, dark and sailed window as though talks with him, but he can't understand, or hear it. His opponent dicloses herself fully from credential zone of darkness. She wears old black, half gothic and some modern, like post-apocalypsis, coat, leather straps and blue velvet dirty scarf - as the reminder that she is someone, or something, specific in collation with pallets of there.
"Zone is unconscious world, and this room is Zone of yours. It is between dream and reality, mind and matter. Isn't it too abstract?"
"I think that I understand that I likely have schizophrenia or consumed some mind-shaking drungs..." He tries to take it as a joke for 1st April.
Her yellow eyes look in a straight direction towards the opposite gender in this informal and abstract room. Her face sends the message that these theories aren't so true.
"Ah.. Shit. I think that I understand why you are looking at me."
"Please, you don't need to use swearing and informal words even here. They're needless fillers... Oki dokey, can we not change the subject of our conversation - contract."
"Contract? Then what will happen if I sign this sheet."
"You have already signed." By saying these four words, absurd goes up in the his analysis of question: Whatda facts is going on there?
"Wait, what?" Surprise pistol shoots from the position of his tongue, feeling no taste, except ethanol.
He shares his attention to the piece of contract. There is a sign written by blue inks: Sir Laphey.
"I don't remember that it happened ever.." Again, rationality crowds out of his brain, even with no crumb to explain it.
"Do you remember anything about your past?" Past - events happened in the history and increases as stars emerge one by one out of human poor eyesight.
Stuporous anvil smached his mind. What is it? What's fook with that? He can't answer. What is the answer, if everything is forgotten and lies somewhere not here, but in the depths of the gray creature in the skull, more certainly, in the castle of overthrown the king of the consciousness. Panic gradually starts to conquer his nervous system with great pain of realisation of what sort of shit he come across.
"You don't need to panic. Everything is fine and there's still a little, but chance, to improve your situation. Now, listen me. Firstly, my name is El... You can just call me Eliz. Secondly, I came here to give you very important ordeal, which isn't only significant for your life, but also all humanity. Finally, you can appear here when you will complete some challenges that your life could give you..."
"What if I am not interested in such kind of "you are hero" games? What is so important about a floating nowhere mind who doesn't know any shit rather than that dammit sign on the piece of worthless paper!? Answer my question, lady!"
"Do you know why you are still conscious, why you are here and how did you come here, Sir?" She asks with silent and non-nervous voice like feather in the burning cage.
"Conscious!?... I. I am.. Because I wanted to live.." Only this simple question inflicts pain from nowhere - somewhere horrifying and tingling.
"It is your volition that it could save from... Death. Death - eternal end of everything. You could return alive from the trap of death. I want you to do only one thing."
"What?" He asks
"Wake up, and make him return to the reality from the sealing. And, of course, take it." By ending the dialogue, she moves her hand towards her half-torn, but cool coat.
She takes something like old headphones from her inner pocket and gives it to his hands. Suddenly, when he takes this special item, she grasps his hand above the table with strange, but strong as her mountainous braveness, power and sheet of contract behins to burn with blue and bright flames. Then, she pronouns: "Don't forget it." Everything becomes dark, silent, empty, like insipidness, nonsense.