A laugh echoes in the darkness around me. It is a familiar laugh, bouncing off invisible surfaces in the dark at random, a glimmer of light here and there, flitting, hitting me when I least expect it, from where I least expect it, echoing till it rings hollow. Someone clears their throat but I cannot tell where in the dark.
I see only the path, and only about ten paces ahead of me. The rest is intruding darkness, threatening to seep in from every direction. The edges of the path fade away into the dark.
There are whispers, and they tell me stories. They linger around me, hinting at better times, dangling them tantalisingly close. But I know I cannot reach them. I have tried. They fade away to nothingness too. Another laugh follows, this one louder, closer, happier, far more incongruent with the oppressive night all around. I hug myself tightly and walk along, searching for the room. It is nearby, but with the endless, labyrinthine path extending indefinitely, I cannot tell what nearby is.
The room will protect me from horrors piercing my flimsy defences. It scares me to leave the path, but I cannot do it any longer.
A whisper crawls up my ear.
Love you.
I flinch as it stabs me. Where is the room?
Another laugh, another hopping flicker of light around me.
Hey! We have missed you!
The whisper swirls around me and I shiver. A bloodcurling scream pierces the cold. I recognise my voice.
Another laugh, followed by wandering whispers of nothing curling around my throat in a vice. Tendrils of dark affection creep along my arms.
Come join us.
I want to, but I know I will dissolve into the darkness if I try. Tears drip down my face; I have been crying for as long as I can recall.
I wish the room into existence as hard as I can, but it is a distance away and all I can do is walk along. A breeze runs down the back of my neck, bringing with it familiar scents that turn into cloying sweetness to suffocate me.
Is that a light I see? It is a lit window! The room! Hope warms me as the shadows draw back a little. Too soon though, too soon for hope. The whispers grow louder, more insistent, sharper, scratching at exposed skin, escalating into a deafening cacophony. Guilt screams at me and reminds me of everything I will miss if I enter the room. The breeze buffets me around, and I am terrified I will fall into the darkness and vanish. I run to the room and slam the door shut.
The ringing silence of the room assaults me as the door closes, and I gasp in terror. I have left everything behind! I have shut it out! Fleeting, passing, lost, gone! The laughs, haunting as they were, the cries, the phantom hugs, the cold breezes where there should be none, the winks of light, the promise of more, all gone. And this quiet, what is this quiet? What is this room? Solitude hits me with all its might, and it is more than I can take. I cry, and crying seeps into what I thought would be perfect. What I hoped would give me perspective. I have perspective, and the perspective is that the universe is the foe that will tear me down. There are no two ways about it. I needed quiet, but quiet is breaking me. Fragile hope I have been desperately hanging onto cracks just a little. What else is there to try?
I need to hold on. I need this. The haunting path is all I have known, everything I want, distorted into a nightmare I cannot wake up from. This room is my island of rest. I need to hope. The silence gets quieter, gentler. It is okay. I wanted this. Maybe it will help.
My breath slows. My shoulders relax. The room goes in and out of focus as I stand with my back firmly against the door.
A phantom laugh startles me, quickly turning into a distant scream. I shake my head. The room is quiet. Nothing can follow me here, and I will not go out. I take a step away from the door and stand still. The silence wraps me in its dusty, sticky embrace, and I let it overwhelm me till I am on the ground, feeling the earth beneath me, breathing in dirt that reminds me of lazy summer afternoons spent in the village in cobwebbed rooms with creaking swings where there was no one to see and nothing to feel.
My eyes are closed but this darkness is soft and welcoming. Safe. I know the laughs are waiting outside for me. I know the arrows of guilt are too. I cannot fight them, but for now, I can pretend they do not exist. I must.
Breathe in, breathe out. I stay. Breathe in, breathe out, repeat. Fragile as it is, I will take this peace. I roll around and lie on my back, staring at the lone naked dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. Something about this room is utterly depressing with undertones of loneliness, loss, and helplessness. But it is mine, and it is quiet, and the jabs of the universe are dulled here till they are no more than mild points of pressure.
I step up to the window, palms resting on the windowpane, my breath fogging up the view. The room is pleasantly warm, unlike the haunting clammy cold of the path winding away into darkness. A spot of light flutters around in the darkness.
My heart misses a beat. Is that a laugh! There is laughing out there and I am shut away here!
Another spot of light flits around, as if bouncing off pillars distributed around the path, and my stomach drops. There is no peace. There can be no peace. I want to be out there, and I cannot be out there.
I stare through the foggy window, unable to step out and unable to peel my eyes away. I have long since forgotten when the path turned dark. The voices, they tell stories about me, but I don’t remember why. They give me names, and whisper. I must have done something, but I can’t imagine what it was. I do not remember. All I remember is walking, endless walking, on a path surrounded by the most precious things in my life turned into weapons.
Will it ever change?
I am the one that must change it, but I have lost the power.
I cannot stay in this room forever but the path, it is too hard. The cold, the dark, the haunting trails of love. The chilly nothingness bearing down on me with the weight of the world. I am tired. I cannot keep walking. Are the voices even real? Why do they whisper to me of better times that I do not remember? Why do they sing to me in tunes that sound like I did something to deserve the better times?
How can I deserve something better when I escaped into a room when I got a chance? There is no way out. How do I continue existing when everything I want to exist for haunts me? I lie back down on the ground and stare up at the naked bulb, hopeless but unable to give up.