by Phantazein Studio
I once found myself in an unknown city in the middle of the night. I was standing in the street and people were passing me in all directions. They were barely alive, each at a different stage of life passing out of them. I knew that I was already dead.
The colored lights from above bounced off the planes of their smooth faces. Strange faces staring a millisecond too long. They were catching onto me. I did my best to mimic their language, this undulating cadence with no name. I smelled it before I heard it. The syrupy falseness in my voice, drowning out my unholy secret.
The air was thick and smelled of caster oil and foods with unpronounceable names. My throat closed up with fear. I didn’t know how long I’d be stuck in this limbo. It was close to midnight and I was alone. I wanted to go back.