I wake up in the darkest place imaginable. Blacker than black, emptying itself into vast nothingness. Am I blind?
I have no idea what will happen to me. But I’m trying so hard to find a light. Where’s the door? Where am I going? Am I stuck here? No one answers. I hear a tiny plea whisper from the ceiling, or was it the corner? Her voice is soft and trembling.
She whispers, “You can do it. There’s a candle in a drawer somewhere here. All you have to do is light it up—enough to get you past this room.”
I feel confused and start to cry. There’s hope, but in this massive black hole of a room, it seems unlikely that I’ll ever find it.
The feeble, familiar voice continued, “Don’t despair. Dear, you don’t remember me, do you?”
I shook my head.
“You’ll remember me soon enough. Just be brave.”
I can barely hear her now.
“Wait, don’t!” I shouted.
But she’s gone. She might just be a hallucination from my loneliness.
I journey on to find even the slightest hint of a wall or corner. There’s nothing but floor. Sometimes there’s a wet puddle, so I take a sip when I’m thirsty. Thankfully, it’s just plain water. Sometimes, I even find biscuits to eat. I curl up into a ball and sleep or cry. I scream at the voice too, hoping she’d come back. Nothing happens. Time passes for sure, but I have no concept of it anymore.
On some days—not sure if they actually are days—I felt energy. It’s my lucky day, I thought. Yet, the hours keep passing by whether I feel energetic or not.
There’s nothing but floor.
