The world wasn’t always darkness. In fact, the last thing you remember was white light. Mesmerising, blinding light of the brightest might. Then came the time when there was nothing but black.
These days, it is impossible to tell where you are. Nor can you know the time for sure. Day and night have become one in the absence of the skies. Your senses are of no help. The air smells of nothing but sanitised steel that you can almost taste. Pain comes in short bursts, too brief to mean a thing.
You try holding onto the voices around you, and barely do. Your own is easy enough. The others are strange and out of reach, as though from a different place altogether. One that is now lost to you. And so you put your hands out, longing for the solace of familiar touch. They find cold, hard concrete. But there is no door on these walls, only gaps that lead onto nothingness.
You feel your way around the labyrinth, praying for a road out. But so many times, you meet a dead end. You double back, with no way of knowing if you are only running in circles. All this time, you try not to let the troubling thought get to you – that walls are all there are.
But something tells you that there is a light at the end of this darkness. That is why you feel the tears on your skin, even though you do not know from whom they fall. Suppose, there is someone out there, waiting for you. After all, that is what one of the faraway echoes keeps telling you.
“Come back to me, please.”
If only you know how to get there, wherever there is. If only you can ask him who sounds so kind and sad. But your throat is hoarse, no matter how much you try to scream. All that leaves your parched lips, is a sickening second of a silent gasp.
And so you keep walking where you can. As your fingers land upon walls, you try to put a face to the comforting voice that comes to you every day. You now use it to mark the passing of time. It has been close to a year since you have started counting, yet he remains a shadow that blends into the dark around you.
What does he look like? Of this sea of images that still live in your head, none of which you can fully grasp before they slip away. Yet there are flashes that last enough to be recognised. In those brief moments, you find warm eyes the colour of rich wood, lips of the palest pink, and a beautiful silver ring that once sat on your finger.
It is no longer there. Your hands are bare, as is the rest of you. Alone is all you have in this strange world of nowhere. All you know to do, is to follow the voice that keeps telling you over and over again,
“Come back to me.”
Daily Prompt: Maze