"A white castle, atop the hill ~
The wicked jester, posed as king ~
Hundred and four, young 'til ~
As ordinary, as sin could bring ~"
A shrill voice entered my ears. Utterly butchering whatever he was singing.
Instinctively, I tried opening my eyes to look at the source of this ear-grating melody.
And yet all I saw was…
Nothing.
Not even darkness, nor the back of my eyelids.
I couldn't see.
Only then were the rest of my senses returned to me. What was left of them, at least.
Pain.
Incredible, horrid amounts of pain.
I screamed.
…
It was quite a harrowing experience to slowly realize the lack of your basic bodily functions.
I couldn't see. I couldn't scream. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.
And yet all of this was inconsequential at the face of this pain I was feeling. It wasn't concentrated at a particular spot, rather, it enveloped me. Every inch of my skin was being stabbed, cut, burnt, and frozen at the same time. Even my insides weren't spared by any means. Utter nothingness enveloped me as where my organs were supposed to be, were tiny machines, the size of a fingernail. I could feel these tiny forms moving and cutting away at my flesh.
Like gruesome micro-chefs out of a horror story, my insides were being cut away by them, inhaled through a tiny opening, and sucked away by tiny metal tubes.
Countless tubes coming out of countless machines intertwined and connected to one huge tube that was coming out of my throat.
It was more accurate to say that it had replaced my throat instead.
Most of my major arteries were gone along with my veins, and whatever I had remaining was constantly being attacked at all moments.
The huge metal tube that was even larger than my throat was the only thing connecting my head to the rest of my body.
Or at least, what was left of it.
Without any vocal cords, I wasn't able to make any sort of noise.
Better yet, without any nerves connecting me, I was unable to assert any sort of control over my body.
The only influence I had over myself was my open eyelids squeezing shut in pain, hiding the grueling sight of my empty eye sockets.
Oddly enough, there was nothing devouring my head… Yet.
"God there was, indeed there was ~
There was no sky, no there was not ~
The young hundred, reduced to a seven ~
There was no hope, no there was not ~"
This voice, coming from somewhere close yet far away, was the only proof I had that I was still alive.
Such an existence might be worth dying from the sight, yet all I could think of was hope…
Is what I would have liked to say, had I been a hero of the legends.
I wished to die, in fact.
I wished to cease my existence at this very moment.
I wished that nothing would be left of me. That I would succumb to eternal darkness.
Every moment of suffering, of perseverance, of might and of courage in my life had led up to this moment.
I wanted to be gone.
This was no longer pain, it was something beyond.
And my mind was far too busy being filled to the brim with crushing pain, that I could not think of the mechanics of it. I had no nerves, no contact with the rest of my body, yet the pain was more than real…
"Yet of old, the seven were ~
Pain was their father ~
Suffering, their mother ~
And was their god, the foolish jester ~"
Time was an ethereal concept at this state. I could not fathom the happenings around me. The world was gone, replaced by eternity itself.
I was in a daze for a second, or an hour. I was only snapped out of it and brought back to this new world of pain by another quartet from the voice. This time, he sounded different. He sounded closer, not only closer to my ears, but also…
…Like he was talking to me.
I felt his breath on my ears as he spoke, his usual energy now replaced by eerie calmness.
He whispered.
"And behold, prospered the seven ~
Eight was their number, nine their bodies ~
Ten they turned, the eleven never knew ~
For twelve had come, and thirteen due.~"
Instantly, a different, much milder pain joined the assault on my mind.
One caused by the sudden shouting.
"THE THIRTEEN OBEYED, ETERNAL MONSOON
FOREVER THE FOOL SAW, MOMENT DUSK
THEY TOO REALIZED, REPLICANT FILTH
THEY WERE SEVEN, THEY WERE MILLIONS
Insane…
The owner of this voice was batshit insane.
Words with no meaning, a story that made no sense. All followed with passion enough to bring back the dead…
Somehow, in some twisted way, made me forget momentarily about my pain, as if it had disappeared completely.
Only thing left was the continuous ringing of my eardrums
"DO YOU SEE?! DO YOU SEE?! BECAUSE I SEE, I DO INDEED… I SEE IT ALL. EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. I UNDERSTAND. I FEEL. I SEE. I AM INSIDE OF IT ALL. I AM HERE. YOU SEE?!"
His never ending nonsense was interrupted.
Click.
Rattle.
Gulp!
The barely distinguishable sound of a cap being opened, and something being taken out, and swallowed.
Seconds passed.
I could tell, because the pain was no more. Neither was the usual emptiness of aftershocks that accompanied intense pain.
73,051
73,052
73,053
I had become so used to it, after thousands of times counting, that my brain had kept on this likely meaningless endeavor even when I had been unconscious.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"Welcome back, dear."
No more was the shrill voice, now replaced by the calm and deep tone of a stoic gentleman.
"Your journey here was quite fast, this time."
…What?