Life after social media and the meandering thought stream of deep consciousness

Down the hall

Arm outstretched, bunching the fabric of the curtain up in your hand. It squeezes through the fingers like putty in hand as the veil comes down. Behind the curtain lay a doorway, rising from the sand like some cruel obelisk, a testament of sorts. To this world, to these people, a testament to their audacity and desires. Still, there it sits; waiting for a hand to grace it with touch. Movement high above, in the sky, cautions those below to dwell on their actions; to consider the possible outcomes, even if just for a brief, fleeting moment. Yes, the crack in the sky pours out vapor like a split pipe. Cold metal dances shivers along skin as hinges divulge their secrets. Spiraled walls and a ceiling of intertwined, impossible geometry. A floor of wooden planks, stretching wall to wall, lined up perfectly as it runs the length. The end indeterminate, all things leading to a point. Is it a mile or a meter? For some reason, it seems as though there are bonfires burning…somewhere, nondescript and implacable heat waves seem to rise and then vanish, appearing elsewhere as if there were some great invisible cart being wheeled throughout the hall. Yet still, as with all tunnels and hallways, we are pulled inevitably towards the end. We may not see the end, or know of it’s existence, but part of us feels that all things end. So, we go forth. Down the hall.

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