The Brainrot Is Consuming Me

the brainrot is consuming me

my eyes? lost

my throat? cut neat

my ears? torn from my head

my skull? split

my hands? chained

my head? removed by axe

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leshy crying blood every night after his eyes were lost

leshy being unable to see, even with his crown, for years afterwards

heket coughing up blood when she tried to eat after her throat was cut neat

heket being unable to scream or even make a sound for years afterwards

kallamar bleeding from his ears at even the slightest noise after his ears were torn from his head

kallamar being unable to hear, learning sign language, for years afterwards

shamura bleeding from her head every time they gained conciousness after their skull was split

shamura being unable to think, remember, or even awaken, for years afterwards

narinder bleeding from his wrists when he tugged at the cuffs after his hands were chained

narinder being unable to control his hands well, due to ruined nerves

see no evil, speak not, hear nothing, think none, do never

five four three two one

nothing

Do you think the Hopeful Steward was scared? [EDEN SPOILERS!!!]

A young child screamed.

And there were more, there were more, light, there were more. Red rock fell from the sky. All screamed.

The Compassionate Cellists embraced the child, who cried, and their parent joined the two. Together, they shed tears.

They watched as ash filled the distant horizon, swooshing closer, emenating from Eden.

"Do you think-"

"Don't worry about it. We have to- we've gotta go."

"Where would we go!?"

They looked to the realm portals, and agreeing, began making their way towards them against the intense winds, and the ash that was beginning to reach them.

One of the many shards of darkness that rained down crashed onto the portals, that crumbled. Their one hope disappeared like a wisp of smoke in the wind.

But, of course, there was more than a wisp of smoke. The Phenomenal Pianist choked on the hot ash in the air, the enormous, thick cloud of which neared.

The child ran to the circle, where they lay sometimes on clear nights to see the stars.

They curled up in front of it.

"Hope!? Hope!? Where are you!?"

Hope looked behind them to see their parent, running towards them, but behind them was the dustcloud. They screamed to warn them, but it was too late.

The ash enveloped her, and what followed was nothing.

I always thought the Light lay at the end of death, they might have thought, if there was anything in the nothing that could think.

But all that was

was nothing.

~ ~ ~

Light.

A small light.

A weak one.

Could not move.

Move?

They had not moved in a very long time, they thought.

A different light now.

After the storm?

The storm was a long time ago.

A small mask, like theirs. Two eyes, a forehead stone.

A tunic, like theirs. Shorts underneath an overshirt, sleeves to the elbows.

Short hair, tied into a small ponytail on the left.

Who are you? they tried to ask, but something else was more important.

Their shape wavered.

They trembled.

Blue. Their skin was blue. See-through. As though they barely existed.

Who are you?

A red candle.

They led the child through the village they once knew.

Where was everyone?

A crusted body, covered in dark crystals.

Although they did not know what had happened, they knew one thing.

Their parent.

After the child left to find their destiny, the Hopeful Steward couldn't help but wonder.

What had happened to this vestige of a deserted oasis? Echoes of the abandoned refuge were present in their mind. The memories of the lost village. Once upon a time, it had been so populated. Now, the only thing that remained were the remnants of the forgotten haven.

But of course, there was one more thing that they couldn't stop thinking about.

Why the child? Why not them?

Why could the child have the destiny of light? Why did the Hopeful Steward have to shoulder the duty of the past and future on their own?

Why did they have to lose everything?

Why did they have to live out the rest of their existence as a ghost, a memory, a remnant, a vestige, an echo?

Why wasn't the child's destiny their own?

It's weird to think the inside of our bodies are dark.

But of course, our skin is transparent. We can see the veins traversing through our bodies.

But the heart is buried in a very thick layer of parts. To protect it, of course, because if anything were to happen to it, we would die.

The blood sees the light, sometimes, if it travels through a particularly thin section of skin, or if it passes by a wound.

Does the blood tell the heart stories of the light?

Does the heart want to see it for itself?

Does the heart beat at the walls of its cage, built for its own safety, to see what it has only heard stories of?