NightOfTheEcho

A figure drags their lean form through the dark, thick liquid. With each long, slow step there’s quiet yet powerful splashes as the substance is moved around. It reaches almost up to the hips of the tall figure. A black sky hangs above it all, and meets the dark ocean along the horizon. A chilling wind whistles past the figure, causing a shiver to wrack its body. A pathetic whimper releases from its throat. It feels a soft plop on its head, and looks up. The sensation is felt again and again until it feels like pouring rain. Another soft whimper comes from the creature. You’ll never get out of here, it hears a soft voice say in its ear. What’s the point in even trying? Another says. A whimper comes from the figure, louder this time. You’re alone. Why bother? You’ll never be anything. Just quit already. No one will help you. There’s too many voices, all of them soft and so tempting to listen to. Why was it even trying? Soon, it listened to the voices. It