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Decided to join in the fanfics, it's my first time what do you think.
>4 years ago to the day you began what might be the most extended run of poor descisions in your life
>You and your friends go out to jokingly celebrate the anneversery of "the first day of it all going wrong."
>Friends laugh, drinks abound, it's a casually fun way to cope
>The night fades, people are tired, but you don't want to leave
>too bad
>A friend of a friend drives you home, he stayed sober unlike you, but this is standard procedure
>You arrive home, the friendly lad who drove you don't wait up, can't blame him it's 2:00 AM
>Your door is unlocked, intentionally, lets hope some axe murderer finally decided to take up lodging in your house
>disspointment yet again, another standard procedure
>As you turn the lights on you and stumble around the half dozen broken ropes and wooden splinters the migranes begin coming back
>You've been having nightmares as of late, so frequently in fact you no longer fear them
>Maybe that's a normal dream actually
>Your bed is cold, messy, the sheets are yellowed and covered with lint
>don't care
>You crash on the bed like a ragdoll
>no, no dolls
>like a corpse
>You do a quick prayer to no god in particular, but you figure any of them who would answer a man in this state must be selfless
>It takes hours but you finallly enter REM sleep, at least a few fleeting hours of rest should help
>The dreams begin again
>You are alone
>you are alone
>you are in a room
>you are in a room full of people
>it's not a party, more like a loose social gathering
>you spot a girl in the corner, she's talking but more out of obligation
>As you reach for her the walls fade to black, your hand fades to black, your vision fades to black
>you are alone
>The nightmares start now
>A voice calls from behind you
>The sweet hand of the clock caresses you from outside your field of vision
>"Are you helpless?" asks the voice, a sensual female tone
>You aren't sure
>"I'm not sure." stammers out of your mouth, you are in no condition to think
>A beautiful well endowed figure appears before you, how far she is, how large she is, or what she really is are obscured in the dreamscape
>"Would you like to be sure?"
>You would
>A crash
>A tumble
>ten thousands of minutes lost to dust, fire, the sea, you can't be sure
>ten thousand emotions, lost to time, to your own nihilism
>The nightmares are getting more vivid
>She stands before you as if to offer comfort, you reach out your hand and she takes it
>The dreams begin again
>You reach to the woman, she's not shy, just tired
>Strike up a conversation
>Strike up a time for a first date
>You got to third base and found love
>Strike 3
>You're out
>That's how the story should go but it keeps playing, why now
>The woman continues caressing your wavering body, a limp sack of shit in her pristine void
>A beautiful if less than bombastic wedding
>A beautiful daughter, full of bombast and pomp and wile
>Another one, less pomp and wile
>Your wife's back turned to you as she tends to the crib
>Your picture on the wall, taken by the closest friend you ever had
>This is a nightmare
>You jerk yourself back
>Kronii is holding your hand, stern faced as ever
>"Do you believe in redemption?"
>You don't know how to respond
>she tries a different line of questioning
>"Did you like what you saw?"
>You nod
>"Do you know what that was?"
>You pause
>you look around
>The ropes are back in view, prompting you to answer as best you can
>"delusions."
>Kronii stands up, her figure is dimly lit as if illuminated by a nearby fire
>"Do you want to live them?"
>It's pointless
>it's no good
>"no"
>She asks once more, "Do you believ-"
>You cut her off
>"no."
>"Very well then."
>A young man, only 22, surrounded by opportunity
>he went to college late but not that late, he's got plenty of spunk still in him
>There's a woman in the corner of his eye
>too late
>A young boy in highschool, maybe a bit depressed, but maybe not, you're too young to know at this point
>In the corner of his eye he sees a beautiful girl, the apple of his eye, his object of obsession
>Too late
>A child, a single boy sitting on the floor. The jump rope around his feet feels more ominous than usual. He jumps back in a moment of fear
>A barely functioning toddler
>A zygote
>nothing
>you are no more
>goodbye
