Meaning of Life Scavenger Hunt

What are we eating? He asked to a fleeing ‘us.’ That crunched beside was beyond biblical, done by a thing God sicked death on and has them running faster than the miserable masses. Calls us monsters, I don't have to hear it, as it remembers its ethereal end and poof, goes back to the end of justifying means as time resorts to only the fleeting final spark dying; end-of-time jowls are always waiting to snap back shut, we'll restart the carousel. Ground quakes, fucks up the sprint, every stutter, I wonder where it went right and how. Can’t think and find the right turn at the same time, at some point in the hall of doors, that one the Scooby Gang will see six times before the trap is set at the ‘RED one this time.’ I died, didn’t I? Is this limbo!? Unseen, haven’t dove further in this fading realm yet. Oh well. So far, in every glance, there are flickering lights, and every glint of hope is a breath down the neck with a firmly whispered, "never." “I hope you’re back there? Groundlessness won’t stop me there!”

Fears, these are new, but we’ll ignore that for the rotting alive, like I took a gander at Medusa’s snarling brother. Dice rolling in the stairwell to liminal level 3363363363... Prayer to that last bastard in the spaceship quit fighting and open the doors for a night. Why give them a capsule to scream in, but no one to hear it for eternity? God, what a trooper. At this point of proof that the messiah is dead, was never useful to the plan, and too slow to miracles to do a damn thing anyway. Tried to tell'em; 2000 years, what? Daddy’s bitch may have found a suitable adoption agency, but we’re talking about him testing his creativity and boulder weight limits, and if you can’t lift it, the fuck is control…anyway…right?! What else could he be looking for? Escaping to the 'open world,' that theorized thought experiment of thoughtless thought and where that could happen, I start to see the folly of our entity trap in the physical demonstration of ending life lines. No sky tramp…tram to take us to infinity, some big promiser, now we're hoping the infinity bullet will do a couple rounds in one go. Don’t get caught running in the open; the neutral sun shows me it always had a dark side. Its battlefield is existence, and I got a trick for that—JESUS! All the humans are flat. Got to give’em credit with those gateways, and baby sacrifices I didn’t ask for, or create the legitimate process of, also why would I let you summon me or need you to, IM THE FUCKING DEVIL!! But welcome to my Danger Zone, you big fu—FUCK! It’s being devoured here too…

Demons now subject to the vacuum, absolute Zero burns differently. Run through my crumbling domain, layers peeled to slivers of torture to bloom into a slinking sculpture with the gooey internals to soften its position outside of what shouldn’t be possible. Layers peel further, gravity can no longer play ball. Was the bill due? Has Tartarus always had a mail box… Leaps through greed and gluttony were the worst, beside hearing the screams come and go, with the blackness’s unmatched hunger showing them what never full really means. That means the end of home—what can do that—there’s no way—wait, is that a door? A liminal leftover, perhaps with a crack that says I don’t need a key, so the crack in the void will have to do. I miss humans; the blip of them can still produce a tear or two. Bet they felt this stupid at this point of their end. Last chance, anyway. I heard you’re not supposed to waste those. Gonna Break on through to the other side--

It smells like a hospital; I picked it myself, refrigerated death. Didn’t pick so many scrubbed-up corpses on the floors, though, it’s not letting my feet glide so smoothly in the dried soup of decayed every single bit of them. This isn’t solid ground, bouncy like a trampoline double bounce in slow motion. Think one bounce, up then down, a forty-five-minute ride that I take with the whole building carcass, and what the fuck is that orange/red… God said this type of being, planet grouping, solar phenomenon, celestial configuration was impossible. Are they stacked... Bit of an old humbler I used in a pinch. Three-bit positions of something can’t even be done by accident. We’re talking a red dwarf halting its supernova with an aggressively mashed pause button. Plus, A/C cool or warmed to standard room temp, as it should be? No. The point is, no leaks. Not here…NO… The hell is here? Life exists here? The feeling is that of low hanging and barely resembling the soul’s essences, but what else do I have? Timetable to find a way out can be paused, right? Lost with fleeting connection to demons falling directly into the sun without a chance; no demonic workforce to smooth the transition of power then. Where my demons flap into swan dive sizzles, these human energies flow without grace in stillness, but where the hate of eternal fire flails and dies. No electricity, I feel this orbit now, the rotation, and as I walk, I realize relativity is a joke here; a floor is a floor, period, no matter the missing I-beams or walls to connect it to the ceiling. H-Vac, unphased, like it could match this entire infrared to soothe a hallway. Nova is knocking behind this sun’s door, and the sun is knocking on my skull. No, thank you, Miss, I’d rather not chat with the lonely hearts club Prime Minister.

My route is lunacy. Mercy Me, this place has elevators with no cords, dinging on the other side of the sun if that’s where the chapel or cafeteria was, that’s where I ended up. This wasn’t exploration; this was a tour, cruise style, never actually letting me touch ground, like what the fuck is footing…I need this now? Floors missing mid ward, and for the only populated break room I’ve seen so far, is a leap that must be timed with a passing Pinto from the crashed parking garage that’ll reconstitute by next cycle. Ha! Found you! Woah…Alive is sort of right, even pushing it. Broccoli head here, monkey face that’s... sure. Pieces of face that drip and torso leakage that needed more than a ribcage to seal, yet still upright. Green ooze, dulled to a menacing hue that pulsated as an exchange of pleasentries—are those land gills…hold on, subtitles—for who?!? Whose dog just went by? Cerbie?!?!? Not you too!!!!!

*Clap, Clap* Yes, in the flesh and I’m pissed. Turn up your volume, take offense, then answer my damn questions. See, god’s trick is in the human Genome, builds the eternal life inside them, can link me far beyond the radar, and humans never sit still, that’s not the surprise. You all feel different, but nothing special, despite the mutant vibes. Ethical wildcards, I’m assuming, speak the truth of this plan. I get the gist… Subtitles blocks with ellipses blinking as they pass looks back and forth, then they return to their forks and playing cards. “What’s a god?” “You know, As above, Agent Smith, Cthulu, the Serpent, the Basilisk, whatever happens after your universe’s weigh station for the want-to-be righteous sorts.” Another laughed, stating, “Talk about a cult gone awry. Who’s the bellend?” Their shrug had me shitting bricks, and I can’t recall them going from eating to card dealing amongst them. A living juxtaposition down to what current action they took by the microsecond, nano… Their seating arrangement was swapped, their clothes, more fitting for the weekend hobby. Fresh, unlike this conversation. Welp, I had been blocking some high-strung entity, dying for that hint of Satan infamy. Manager? HA. I want your Supervi—

{space for Sun’s true language.}

You…no one can do that. Zeus shit himself trying, Baron Sauedi, choke on that dimension’s equivalent to glass. No one can do that. We made the rules, the folklore, that was supposed to be our entry-level boogie man. Bypassed all creation to make that happen. Emotion pulled from me, assigned an image, added with others, and the scene that plays out accurately speaks my…MY only language. Rewrites, it never happened anyway, I should’ve been paying attention. Pain of my birth becomes the punctuation of a greater point that stretches the few eons I was never around for… was I here??? Our dark matter is vacant; what’s left shows no mercy but no clemency either, makes people think we were never there, dirty trick, I know. There were so many things we could’ve done better for humans. So much hurt for nothing. And we stood by it hand-holding as friend and enemy, like the figments we are, were? How could a place of planets made of rubber ducks and the ghost of the dead talk shit with their living self for the fuck-up that they are still reliving so plainly? Like me. Chaos seeps, so the flood of a new order always shocks. I didn’t run from shit, the collapse, the blackness ever expanding. I exited and reentered and…and I’m settling here. As a brief rundown goes, my Sun, Angela, prevents her own demise to watch the ant farm of sporadic nomads. I won’t escape the break, the loop. I’ll eventually see the light in them.

Epilogue

My arrival each time isn’t. It’s now buried so many renditions ago, what even led me here? I’m to wake where it wants me in the hospital. Was I always this way? I’m here. Once served some master, once anchored reality to the Earth as part of some role, but where in reality ends not with a bang, but with a ‘see you when you wake.’ It—it feels charming, I know it shouldn’t be in this glass case, if old colleagues find me… Would they recognize the new me? I don’t. Holding the old shape doesn’t work anymore, God's sleek but high potential for evil by design mystique. Hmph… what a joke. The Sun has something to do with it all, I just know it. Just new dimensions to accept first. Too indifferent to be hell, but too trapped in old keepsakes to keep the garbage shoot of familiarity alive. I imagine what it would have been like before the villain took it from its home. Home, where the life I toyed with was hinged on the unconscious. Where my name did the heavy lifting…what have I become…….? SAY SOMETHING!