The sound of rain accompanies the cries of weeping.
—What the heck just happened?
Stunned by what occurred, I don't know whether I should feel fear, sadness, or unease.
—Aaarrr...
In the background, I hear the roots twisting along the walls, moving the small stones that bounce in the cracks, creating an effect of omnipresence on the cave walls.
While the roots tormenting my being spread through my flesh, I feel a terrible discomfort on a purely mental level, gnawing away at the little psychic stability I have left.
The roots cover most of my body, to the point that they protrude from the lower part of my face, leaving only part of my chest and one of my arms free. I lift that arm to touch my face, as a sign of the impotence and despair I feel.
"Am I going to die?"
The silence seems overwhelming. Desperation floods me.
"I'm going to die!"
Apart from the roots, nothing else is heard. It seems that everything is over, yet from that silence emerges one of those beings.
A familiar face—the one that only shouted at me last time. It seems to remember everything that has happened; I find it hard to fathom the reason. It begins to speak angrily in the cold corner where we are. I cannot understand it; I am too shocked.
It removes its hand from my face, tearing off my skin as the roots have embedded in both my hand and my face. It starts trying to repair the inscriptions on my face. As it does, I cannot move—only blink. In one of those blinks, I feel time stretch out in an unusually long manner. When it opens its eyes, a sense of calm and peace fills my mind once again.
Once its anguish disappears, I begin to hear the being's voice.
ŴɵɆʋɆɆ ŧɵ ÞɵƆɅɅŧɆ—scribbled hurriedly.
—woh-eh-tay ah too boh-luh-tahd—
I can only watch as that being writes and reads the symbols on its chest. After a moment of silence serving as a prelude—as if it were waiting for something—with a surprised look, the being begins to shout.
—WHY DON'T YOU GET UP!
—It already tells me ssahn-soh that I'm not good at this.
—I do what I can—
I watch as it flees, trying to save its own life.
{What just happened? For a moment, I thought I would be rescued.}
{What did I just say? I hoped it would save me. I'm going crazy.}
{I guess I'll die, ha, ha, ha—how many times have I said that already.}
In my repetitive inner monologues, I only ramble in the face of my resignation.
Out of simple curiosity, I read the symbols on my forehead and chest with indifference. I can read them, but I never really paid attention to what they said.
ʘɆȺΨ ƞƆɅɆƆɆ
"so-en-tuh trahng-kee-lah"
"Calm Mind"
ɞɲßȺɳɲΨɆɆ
"uh-ni-sswehn-nay"
"Subconscious"
ɞɲΨɆɆ
"uh-ssweh"
"Consciousness"
ƤɅΨ ɞɲΨɆɆ
"pahz men-tahl"
"Mental Peace"
"It seemed there were more words, because understanding words is more difficult than just reading them."
"Only 2 words on the chest?"
ŴɵɆʋɆɆ ŧɵ ÞɵƆɅɅŧɆ
"woh-eh-tay ah too boh-luh-tahd"
"Move at your will."
"That's much simpler; what's the difference?"
While I ponder the enigmas left by the text, I begin to reason about the meaning of the words on my chest, specifically.
"What are these words? That guy seemed to be exerting himself a lot."
Without overthinking it, I conclude that these words have effects depending on what is written, with some details I don't take the time to consider.
"Move at your will" is what the letters on my chest say.
"Assuming that the letters work as I think they do, they should allow me to move, right?"
"Assuming something went wrong due to the reaction of the being that tried to help me, but why?"
After some thought, I understand and realize one of those details I didn't know: "move at your will." Will is the desire or intention, or that which one wishes for.
"Desire." I desired nothing in the moment my hand touched my face; I lost every ounce of will within me. When I realized that, my desire to live returned to my body.
"I'm going to live. Well, for now, I have to get out of here."
"I suppose I just have to want to get up, and that's it."
After hours of failed attempts, I finally feel that I can move, but a sense of stiffness prevents me, and at last, I become aware of the situation I'm in.
Due to my complete lack of will to live, I allow myself to ignore the coffin of roots surrounding me, entirely incapacitated.
More hours pass.
"What do I do now?"
Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack!
A sound of breaking branches is heard very close, almost as if they were on top of me. My thoughts are confirmed when the roots covering my eyes give way to a dark, rough material.
They were strange creatures resembling beetles, appearing as a sort of mouth disgustingly full of teeth, with exposed fangs used to carry their food to their mouth.
I remain motionless as the strange creatures seem to ignore my existence, until one of them uses its exposed fangs to try to take a piece of my stomach.
When those fangs contact my flesh, I go from contemplation to panic in seconds. Instinctively, I break free from the ground and run as fast as I can until I crash into the first bend I encounter.
The impact is strong, but at least the insects do not follow me or try to chase me. I don't know if it's the blow or my mental state, but out of curiosity, I decide to go back to observe the area.
To my surprise, I haven't run as far as I thought. It was at most twenty meters before I began to ponder what I had just done. I stick my head out through a natural opening in the cave and see how the place where I was has turned, covered with roots everywhere, so many that they pile up on themselves, forming intertwined structures.
Only the sound of those insects feeding can be heard, but what catches my attention most is the color of the roots: they are gray. I can't be sure, but I would swear they were red before. Unconsciously, I approach, walking clumsily, and accidentally step on a root. Instantly, I throw myself to the ground, frightened and haunted by bad memories, but the root breaks immediately.
It is dry, dead. I am perplexed by the image before me. It makes no sense. I would have sworn the roots were red as blood and so alive that they literally moved.
I look at my body covered in roots, which makes me wonder: how long have I been here? The answer does not please me.
Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack! - Crack!
The sound of the insects repeats, and their loud chirping becomes increasingly overwhelming. I turn around and see how the place where I am is collapsing while those creatures multiply and run in my direction.
Curiosity takes hold of me, as it seems they are concentrating at one point.
I quicken my pace and run swiftly toward the corner, but the insects seem unwilling to let me escape. Although fear floods me, I decide to lunge forward, trying to get away.
The roots try to cling to my legs, but I can barely feel them. As I run, my thoughts become ever more intense. I'm alive! I'm alive! The voice echoes in my head like a repeated refrain of something I cannot identify.
At the end of that path, the ground rises into the air and pushes me forward. When I reach the top, I stumble during a descent and fall face-first onto the ground, where a deafening sound occurs. I feel panic seize me once again.
As darkness envelops me, the only comfort is that my body keeps moving.
What I once believed was lost has become a reality. Is this a blessing or a curse?