Conscience

It's coming.

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1. Conscience

The grin etched across my stretched face wanes down to a mere chuckle as I see it approaching. It. As I write this I wonder if you know what I'm talking about. Such a simple word to say. And it can mean such simple things, too; but right now it doesn't.
'It' can also mean everything in the world. It takes on everything in the world. It hugs it, no; it smothers it. Yeah, that's right. It smothers the world.
I'm smothering my chuckle right now. It's not the right time to chuckle. In fact it's probably the worst time for that.
Ploc. Ploc. Ploc.
It's getting closer.
I feel it getting near me. Its presence is overwhelming. It's the smothering thing again. My breathing is stopped. Ponders. Starts up again - hesitantly. No.
I jump up and run across the stage.
I know it's there.
It's breathing in my neck. If only - if only I knew what it was. But that's the thing, isn't it. It's nothing.

It's also that I believe that's it there. Or I know it. I'm not so sure. I try not to believe it. But it still is. So it must be that I know. Like in the horror movies. It's always scarier when you're not sure what the thing is, isn't it.
But right now I'm pretty sure. In fact I'm completely sure. I know what it is. But I won't tell you.

It's not fun if I tell you.

The stage is empty. It's waiting for you to join it. To join us. There's it, and there's the stage, and there's me. Another it. Another something. That smothers the world. And the chuckle. And the happiness. It smothers them too.
Because the happiness isn't there. It's fake. Imagined. And there's no more time for that. I've lost my patience for that. You realize after a while, that the realm's what really matters. I don't know what that realm is. But I know it's what matters.
Like it.
Quiet. Slithering. A ruckus drawn across its teeth. It gets closer.
Ploc. Ploc. Ploc.
I'm not sure what that sound is. I'm not sure of a lot of things, in the end. All I'm sure about is that it's here. Right behind me. It's breathing down my neck. But how can it be breathing? If it's not alive. And I can't see it. I turn around but it's not there. But I can still feel it breathing. I can still feel the rattle chime against my spine.

But you can see it, can't you? I'm on the stage, but you're not. You're in front of it. You're where you should see it. You're supposed to see everything. I'm the display. It's the display too, maybe. But you see. You know. But you don't tell me.
It's not fun if you tell me either.

I like this game. But I can't play much longer.

It's here.
 

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