Indi555

Whispers in the dark. Surrounding, caressing, smothering in their black embrace. You have no recollection of who you are or how you arrived in this realm of endless nothing. You are alone within a world of oblivion, a void landscape vacant of any and all defining features. There is no horizon, no sky, no ground. There is only you. You, and the whispers. Whether they are the voices of malevolent spirtis or tortured minds you do not know; you are simply aware that they are calling, calling to you, calling your name in some archaic and long-forgotten tongue. How did you get here? You do not know. Where is here? You do not know that either. You

Wandering this pernicious path, These winding, bleak and endless halls, Her cold, unfeeling, icy wrath; Running, running from Death's black call. "Who's there?" they ask, and I doth scream. My sweet reward is but a lie- But nothing here is what it seems Beneath her chill omniscient eye. In the iron grip of hellish science The Reaper took the cube away Her toneless voice preaching compliance Within this world of endless grey. Caught deep within this grim nightmare- A rat trap'd in a twisted snare.