You know that feeling.
You wake up.
It's dark.
You can't see.
You can't move.
Then you start to see things in the Dark looming over you.
Looming closer.
You try to move.
You can't.
You try to scream.
You can't.
You are stuck halfway between dream and awake.
You try to rationally attack the problem.
You can't
Your monkey brain is screaming at you.
It ends.
You feel relief.
You piss.
You drink.
You go back to sleep.
We all seem to be stuck there.
Only it is worse.
The Things in the DarkTM aren't always just your brain looking for patterns in the Abyss.
They are real.
They don't even hate you.
It's worse than that.
They don't even care.
You are beneath their notice.
When they notice you noticing you, they grin at you.
Rotten teeth.
Green within green eyes.
Long fangs.
Mandibles that click and clack.
A little kiss is all they give you.
And every time you wake up, you can move a little less.
Soon you won't be able to scream.
The question is if you will stop caring before or after that.
The only time you can hear your screams is from the mirrors.
They are mirrors right?
Sometimes you can't tell.
Sometimes you see other people's faces.
Sometimes they scream at you first.
But it doesn't matter.
The reflections are wrapped up in shining pastel plastic strands with blinking LEDs in every color.
Tied to metal death machines.
Screaming over poured stone and old oil.
Tied to glowing bits of glass that show you what you want to see.
Even the things you don't want to.
The sad thing is you know you can wake up, but you don't know if you want to.
The Night MareTM is all you have ever known, and you don't want to destroy the only thing you have ever known.
You wake up.
It's dark.
You can't see.
You can't move.
Then you start to see things in the Dark looming over you.
Looming closer.
You try to move.
You can't.
You try to scream.
You can't.
You are stuck halfway between dream and awake.
You try to rationally attack the problem.
You can't
Your monkey brain is screaming at you.
It ends.
You feel relief.
You piss.
You drink.
You go back to sleep.
We all seem to be stuck there.
Only it is worse.
The Things in the DarkTM aren't always just your brain looking for patterns in the Abyss.
They are real.
They don't even hate you.
It's worse than that.
They don't even care.
You are beneath their notice.
When they notice you noticing you, they grin at you.
Rotten teeth.
Green within green eyes.
Long fangs.
Mandibles that click and clack.
A little kiss is all they give you.
And every time you wake up, you can move a little less.
Soon you won't be able to scream.
The question is if you will stop caring before or after that.
The only time you can hear your screams is from the mirrors.
They are mirrors right?
Sometimes you can't tell.
Sometimes you see other people's faces.
Sometimes they scream at you first.
But it doesn't matter.
The reflections are wrapped up in shining pastel plastic strands with blinking LEDs in every color.
Tied to metal death machines.
Screaming over poured stone and old oil.
Tied to glowing bits of glass that show you what you want to see.
Even the things you don't want to.
The sad thing is you know you can wake up, but you don't know if you want to.
The Night MareTM is all you have ever known, and you don't want to destroy the only thing you have ever known.