Exhaust
This remnant has manifested in The Oubliette as a part of something greater.
Of something that lingers.
Something left behind.
Something that haunts.
One day, the things we carry within must be faced—either by choice, or when our demons catch up despite our chosen blindness.
Every step taken as we drag them along exhausts us further.
Weighed down by a mask of fatigue and regret.
Until we no longer have the strength to walk the path.. to be ourselves.
Unless we look inward—
And find ourselves anew.
Embracing what was.. and what we bear within.
You ride.
The scenery moves past you in a blur of green, blue and earthy tones as you make your way over this winding road to nowhere.
White lines seem to move through you from the black pavement below—the ritual repetition invoking the monotony-induced meditative state you know so well, or crave even.
You left it all behind. A new start.
The thought seems to come out of nowhere.
Am I riding towards a new horizon, or running away from what lies behind me?
You jerk the handlebars. Your reflexes noticed before you did. There was someone in the road. Or, a shape at least—wasn’t there?
Clouds obscure the colours painted in the evening sky, and darkness seems to fall sooner than you expected.
You feel an unease, the sort of feeling your mind sends you right before—
Again! Now you see it more clear! You have to quickly react to avoid riding straight into a person suddenly appearing in the road. You pass them by a hair.
You brake—hard.
Your tires leave marks on the pavement. You barely notice them though, as your eyes stare down the road behind you…
No one there.
Just darkness and the sound of your engine grumbling beneath you.
Deeply unnerved, yet without many other options, you ride on...
You need to find a place to stop, to sleep. You’re seeing things.
Then, it happens again. There he is, clear as day. It’s him. Decay has set in, but you recognize him instantly. The wound you left him with as a testament to your sin. His hollow eyes staring—an accusation, a verdict, a vengeful spirit.
How can this be? How is he here?
Again you pull on the handlebars, violently—except this time you lose control of the machine that carries you. You hit something—you’re not even sure what.
You feel your flesh tear, metal shards driving into your body.
A limb separates from you.
Then—a short, sharp, piercing pain in your skull.
Oblivion.
You startle awake in a roadside motel.
How did I get here? And what was that strange—
A sudden flare of pain in your shoulder.
Weird. No blood, no wounds. Just the pain, lingering...
Rain patters outside the window—the night dark, brooding, storm-bound.
The neon light of the vacancy sign falls unapologetically through the inefficient curtains of your room.
In the red light, you make out the shape of an envelope that lies on the small, round table opposite the bed. It definitely wasn’t there before. You walk over and pick it up.
It bears your name...
