literature

oblivion

Deviation Actions

Published: Feb 4, 2016

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Literature Text

_{My world is white. I'm sitting in a glass room, in front of an hourglass that never seems to run out of sand. I've been here for as long as I can remember -- any memories from before are so faded and distorted that they no longer hold any credibility. I'm convinced that nothing will ever end -- and, likewise, nothing will ever begin. Time is passing, but nothing changes. This is the "ideal." I will never have to face the world beyond my glass room.
But there are cracks. No fortress is impenetrable -- and it shouldn't be, I know it shouldn't be, but I can't help but wish it was.
The cracks are spreading. One might think that to be a good thing -- let the light in, after all these years -- and yet all I can see outside is darkness. In the distance, there are little lamps, each held by one person. No one lives fully in the light; everyone is surrounded by the darkness.
When I see those lamps, I feel a spark of hope. I glance down at myself for the first time in ages, only to find that my hands are no longer functional. I could not hold a lamp even if I tried; I would need assistance... or new hands.
Who is there to ask, though? The lamps take two hands to carry. They are heavy, and I cannot expect anyone to put down theirs in order to help me carry mine -- never mind the fact that there is no lamp for me in sight.
My hope is quick to fade. I turn my attention back to my white room, the breaking walls, trying to ignore the fact that my world is shattering around me. My eyes become fixed on the hourglass again, and, distantly, I realize that it isn't endless after all.}