A Harbinger of the Fathomless Void

There is a stirring that beckons from the deep, but I cannot heed its call.

I can, but I cannot swim.

I dare not enter the water, for I dread what lurks beneath.

In the dark, the deep. That gate which houses the open maw to the abyss.

My last dance with the water is still raw. The feeling of overwhelming terror as I realize where I am and where I am not.

Something calls to me. A most unfamiliar call, one unnatural. Fetid. It clings to me. Cloying. Sucking. Licking its tendrils along skin where I cannot see as I panic, treading for air, frantic. It watches me. Always.

Down, down in the deep.

Too far now to reach.

Too dark to see.

The unknown harbinger of the fathomless void…

You mutter, breathless “Nothing. It is nothing. It is surely all in my mind.”

Yet… nothing can sometimes be…

Drums, drums beat my chest as I try to contain the Babom BABOM of my breast.

My internal eyes close, hard and unforgiving. I wish to gouge them.

I will not go back in. I will refrain.

But I swear to all that there it is again. That Something.

The lull in new corpses makes us feel safe.

“It will never happen to me. Not to me.”

But anything may.

Together forever. It wants to be. With me.

It wishes for something more. More. To make an us.

I try with all my might to go back. My body burns with exertion.

This is not right, I cannot do it. I cannot give it what it seeks.

There’s only one way this ends and it is not known how.

From where did it come? Slumbering for a thousand, thousand years till man broke its cage. It is no longer asleep.

What else could we expect to come from our vices.

We did nothing except exchange small bits of our wastage for a pittance.

We did nothing to save what was left of our mother.

Down, down in the deep it wakes from slumber and calls to its inhabitants.

There is no going back without all of us doing everything, everything, everything…

Death would be a release for us and we know it, but instead we see only what our own hands had wrought.

A world made undead, all that is left is to answer the call from beyond.

Down in the deep dark. Down it awaits us.

I scream in agony from the fear of it. Cry in terror for what is to come.

There is nothing left. Nothing. But nothing can be something.

What more can one do except try. Try. Live before we die.

There it is again, the call, the call from the void from the harbinger.

We should have listened. We should have made a difference.

We should have done something.

But now it all ends. Now there is nothing more than to accept what is to come.

Thankful for the living dead. Thankful for what may be.

Down, down in the deep dark. It waits, watching, waiting, watching.

Till we are no more, and it instead is the lord of all that is left over.

We have nothing more to give but ourselves to it. It calls to us, it summons us home.

We must accept our fate, for that is all there is left to do.

Don’t do it, you scum, you creature, you scoundrel. Don’t give in.

But that is what we want to do, that is what we need to do. That is who we are inside.

So, wade into the writhing, bloodied waters of our violence.