Words won’t do it. Sounds won’t do it. Sights won’t do it. It’s all about the smell now, now that nerve has gone and flesh has been torn from bone and the air is soundless against the scalp you can feel is too tight and too smooth. You don’t want to wonder what you look like now, you can’t, won’t be able to.
That fear echoes worse than the pain ever could, than the feeling of your nerve endings seared off, the memory of agony that embodied your world a few seconds earlier. That fear is all that keeps you moving forward step by step without looking anywhere.
There is no world. No air, no song, no wisdom but what lies before you.
They really shouldn’t have tried to take your Eggos, but these things happen. These things happen and people have to pay.
Congratulations on Emerging From the Flames!
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