File #1

"What am i doing..?" Sneered the Colonel. He was extra sneery this long in the filth. a sneer like none other that has ever been uttered via his vocals, especially in this time of muted hollow.

"Huh?" yelled Mike. What could it be now?

"Don't you understand that this is madness? Madness of the darkest kind! Trying to find its way into all of us! And you.. all you do is continue to baffle me with your... your hope?!" Such a curse echoed back down to take massive effect of Mike's psych.

This however, was hope that the Colonel did not know. Were these words even meant? Or were they out of hate for the Colonel's sake. A piece of mind? Like a piece of cake.

"We goners. GONERS YOU HEAR. Ain't no man escaping from such a clear fate!" Rang the shady bristles and molecules as his hysteria grew and the wind screwed.

The air drill howled through for all too bleed, before dead. Drained to silence. It loathed it, loud. Loud like the howls itself. Loud like the souls of tortured howling monkeys, from the brink of a flood bank within the African night. Only the snow showed no howling monkeys its warmth upon rapture... and anything else for that matter.

"Colonel, your too loud, come down please. we're all going to make it! Were so close! Think of the others back at camp. Please, we need your faith to strengthen us!" Beckoned Mike. Like praying to a god. Whatever that was at this point.

The end was surely near if he couldn't get even the Colonel to want too continue surviving this... No food. No water. No Gas. Nowhere for more. Barely 2 people could even bring back 1 of the many empty barrels they harbour for the sweet nectar that slumbers upon this tower. This tower that mocked by the minute, which felt too them like hours.

Yes, it was just them... And the others waiting back east. Waiting for some sign of relief, some sign of hope... and T H E O T H E R S, who hid and seeped so clearly as a form discrete.

There, they could be there!.. Anywhere... Anywhere where you would need the collapsing of a heartbeat to be not. Unless you want it not to beat...

"..."

The Colonel's facial structure was just a mishmash of colors and textures at this point... Blended from the landscape of neptune hues, frosted metallic licks, dead mazzies, and trees breathing deep green spikes from this dimensional distance between the two.

The Colonel clearly had much on his mind. Enough to opt for his CPUs to reach high levels of crash in no time flat.

Mike crapped.

This ain't no laugh...

"Colonel i'm coming up!" Mike alerted Pont's from such distance. "Will camp out here for the time being." As said as he hastily hustled. If Ponts wasn't going to take the chance, Mike wouldn't either.

Speedier and speedier he grew up the ladder, up the ladder! As the widowers whistled woo, and chatter bloomed true...

BOOM.

"GaCKK!-" Thud Mike. Love upon the woo.

Colonel Pont's has seemed to have jumped! the illusion of distance dumps on you when the realize that the magician has just taken your winnings. Poof!

Mike smashed upon the ground.

Lumped

Bruised.

Leaking fluids.

Bones on the verge of breaking at the slightest twitch. "This was your trick." Snicked the magician as he made his exit.

As consciousness reskinned, Colonel Pont's back became the first thing Mike noticed amiss. It was opened like an eye, missing the brains of the matter inside. Hollow. Fleshy. No fluids, except for that of Mike's drippings he had been accumulating. This is no natural sight to the naked eye of real life.

For Mike's eyes. They see nine.

eight.

seven.

six.

five.

four.

three.

two.

one.....

"!!!" blurs Mike too whitenoise static.

He runs. Runs faster than any man alive in this period of space. At Least... For this instant, where nothing but him exists.

Cracks in his calcium grow till the probability of his mother being a cripple were far too close. starting off as more, before becoming less then what actually was near.

The snow shift and morphed like art under its guests. Abstract in nature it did change. Was the painter revealing his work with his signature in the corner to collect?

Mike could feel this demonic, anomalic artist draw. How ironic. If only he knew... Himself falling apart internally at the extent of his efforts, were simply adding to the beauty of the capture.

His veins rippled as aforementioned...

He swoops for his radio to inform the others that... it will be ok!..

Just OK.

Love and light and hope we fight are with us always through day and night of cosmic life. Until there not, he neglected to pertain.

He takes what may be his last thought of an intact brain.

"It's gonna be ok everyone. Were on our way."

Gem is relieved, too say the least.