phantom vision: transcendence of realm — !story

[panchiko]

phantom vision: transcendence of realm

———

“that final terror is in your house somewhere

hiding in boxes, behind closed doorways

out from the forest adjacent to your garage

i’ve seen its marks at the corner of your eyes”

. . .

blue. gray. slate dust twilight. the forest soaked in faded chroma. it was empty, tired. inhabitants dead, gone, asleep. hiding?

maybe they sensed danger.

the ephemerality of life gloated at them.

their worry was worth dirt. in their life time, they would never experience the true nature of fear. not as he had—

blue green neon yellow electric fuchsia THEIR VIBRANCY DID NOT BELONG scarlet Aqua white!!!!!!!!!!

their amorphous forms appeared unwelcome, suddenly, flowing up into the leaves like goo and wrapping themselves around the forest’s limbs. shapeless blobs with features unrecognizable; traces of faces, they were clearly expressionful—he felt them laughing at him, opening and closing their mouths repeatedly, fluidly—but nothing solid. nothing he could hold on to. nothing that solidified them into something categorizable.

he stared at them, almost harshly enough to assert dominance against these alien .... things.

this was not the first time. he expected them, now. they were curses. spirits.

they were haunting; their presence weighed on him the same way a physical boulder would, crushing, oppressive, burdening his soul. their negative energies, flippant behaviors, blatant disregard for anything external to them... they were malicious tricksters.

he never did anything but observe them.

there was nothing to do.

he turned to leave, paused, opened his mouth. spoke.

“beware.”

a warning to whoever came next.

. . .

the tale of akuma, riftwalker. allegedly. haunted by the forms of nondescript ghouls and spirits, his blood and bones are tired. transience leaves him without home or relation, and he prefers it such. perhaps that way, he could outwalk the phantasmal and reach a safe haven untouched by metaphysical horrors.

...this hope is unsubstantiated. he knows little about them, only aware of their connection to places where negativity runs rampant. perhaps they are real, or they are not physical at all and exist solely in the mind. alternatively, this can be said about the entirety of existence.

the concept of the boltzmann brain says that, statistically speaking, it may be more probable for a consciousness, a brain, to spontaneously form in a void, containing “memories” of existing in our universe, than for the universe to have come about in the way that we believe it to have.

perhaps reality is not what we believe it to be. perhaps akuma is the only one who sees them, but does that mean they do not exist?

———

not set in the wco universe. a creative story intended for entertainment and some thought provocation. i'll be using this thread to feed the creative writing urges without needing to create an actual character. comments allowed !

[panchiko]

♪♫ — you are now listening to: skin by giving a butterfly a skeleton

phantom vision: transcendence of realm

———

i. liminal interstice

“just ’cause you feel it
doesn’t mean it’s there

(someone on your shoulder)
(someone on your shoulder)”

. . .

rust bled across the walls and close by train tracks. the scene glowed lime and warm slime green, colored by an unidentified twitching light located underneath an extruded storefront. he felt as though his being was alone, definite, and infinite— similar to the feeling one might get from driving hours alone at night on a safe and lit street, watching the cement roll beneath your wheels, the view outside your window constant and unchanging, a steady hum from the engine, the music from your radio comfortable and familiar; this existence was independent to the rest of the universe and at the edge of Everything

he smelled, still, and tasted as the air hit his tongue, the metallic scent of the spirits that haunted him. they were not here now, no, he thought. some time ago, they had been, but time had done its service and now akuma was left to linger in the empty space they once occupied. in the dim light of the storefront, there was nothing for him but a warm blanket of silence. he found himself exhaling a deep breath, and with it, he released much of the pent-up frustration and stress that he had allowed to brew. he could rest, now. relief.

akuma closed his eyes and sat, back against the wall, head tilted upwards towards the obstructed sky. an unspoken and unknown question sat under his tongue. the heavens offered no response to him.

in the silence, he came to the conclusion that this was all meaningless, this was all life was, and that it would never be significantly more or less. akuma sat with this for a moment, trying to understand whether everything meant nothing to him or whether it all meant everything. a wave of occhiolism washed over his mind and the thought twisted like a knife in his mind that more existed than he would ever be able to experience in his lifetime; the fact that he was here, the fact that he was alive right now, all of that would be forgotten in the same way that all of existence eventually would be. he would only ever know his own life, the experiences of which would never give him the knowledge he desired to come to any reasonable or satisfying conclusions about the world.

to exist was to be unsatisfied, imprisoned in a state of perpetual longing. he understood this.

. . .

let us take a moment to explore something different.

the existence of aliens is a highly contested topic. several hypotheses and concepts attempt to address extraterrestrial possibilities, further our understanding of the world, and explain why we know as little as we do.

the dark forest hypothesis speculates that alien civilizations can be divided into two categories: the hunters and the hunted. civilizations are hostile to one another, and aliens keep themselves undetected intentionally in order to not be destroyed by another civilization:

“suppose a vast number of civilizations are distributed throughout the universe. suppose that survival is the primary need of a civilization. suppose that civilizations continuously expand over time, but the total matter in the universe remains constant. the only logical conclusion from the acceptance of these axioms … is that any intelligent life in the universe will be pitted against all other life in the struggle for survival.” - liu cixin

building off of this, the berserker hypothesis considers that all alien life and any evidence of it has been destroyed by self-replicating aircraft. aliens may or may not have existed at some point, but under the berserker hypothesis, it would be that there exists no intelligent life left to be discovered.

the great filter is the idea that there is something stopping civilizations from developing to a point where they would be detectable. advancement is described as a nine-step process, and somewhere along the line, it is proposed that alien civilizations face a barrier and are unable to develop further, ultimately resulting in civilization failure.

the rare earth hypothesis surmises that the events around our own civilization, geologically and astrophysically, were incredibly rare and shaped the unique circumstances necessary for life to evolve. in this case, life in the universe is improbable and we were the exception; it is unlikely that we will find any others.

all signs point to our being alone. the universe is empty but your heart beats with life and vigor and the social organism pulsates with the vibrancy of human connection. we have created a concept of love; a passionate fervor to live is awakened by an inward realization of the depth of dynamic relationships. we value the individual beside us and appreciate their personhood for all it is, the world for all it has been, and the kindness of the earth and its inhabitants for all they have done.

. . .

♪♫ — you are now listening to: moving along by knola

akuma does not share this sentimentality and it is perhaps for this reason that the universe chose him to bear this burden and gift. there is nothing to anchor him to this world nor does he intend to find an anchor in the next. the soul enclosed in his ribcage is empty and bitter and purposeful, and he acts with ardent intent in the interest of the stars above and the man below.


l̷̨͖̫̻̦̦̜͓͔̰͙͋̽͆i̸͕̗̣̘̓̀̚͜ ̨̩̫̗̗̘̜̤ĝ̸̫̗̟̖͂̿͗ͅh̴̄̾̎̊͒ ̫̦͔͈͎̲̖̱̯̣̬͍̮͚͍̇̊̋̔̑̋̍͊̔̆ t̴̤̤̭̲̝̝͔̄̈́͒̐̐s̸̫͔̟̎͗͒̓͠ ̸̣̘̃̀͛̅̽̆̂͊̽̽̕̚̚̕͝f̶̡̮̣̿͠� �̡̯̲̝̻̰̰l̷̡̝̹̱̗̩̈́͊̎̅̌̅̈͒̉͠ á̸͉ś̵̘͖̟̫͑̾͌͊́̅̀̈́̅̈̕͝h̴̑� �̨̤̝͉̪̼̠͇̟̗̼͗̊̈́̀͌͘i̸̅́̏̆̓̆ ̠̭̳͎̭̣̅̊̀͑̂͗͜ǹ̸̐̀̐̃̓̓̍̽̽� �̝͎̰͙͚̭͉̥̤̣̗̫͛́g̵͌̀̂́̐̃̚͘͝ ̛̫̟̹͈̘̻̱͈̜̣̹͛̆́ ̴̧̳̩͍̗̦̣͖͙̗̀̉͗͊̋͠͠͝ͅć̷̏͌� �̨̭͔̲̜̰͈̙̜͇͙͍͑̎͂̄͜y̵̛̽͊̊͑͘ ͍͚̙͚̜̰͓̯̗̪̺̮͈̫̂͌̾͌̎ͅa̷̖͆͑� �n̷̡̨̻͕̭̤̰̣̗̗̖̠̜̝̠̒̾̌̿̏̅ ̴̡̡͓̘͙́͜ä̸̦̟́̔̓̔̓͗̍̇͘̚͘͘͠� �̢̬͈̤͓q̶͈̞̦̝̞͈͚̤͉̮̬̯̟̘͌ͅu̶� �̧̹̤̖͕̙̇̎̈̚͜a̴̧̝͙͈̙̞̖͎̙̳͜͠ ̟



a gap in reality began to form. fulgurant sparks of aqua and cyan sizzled on the edge of the portal, displaying similar volatile and dynamic properties to electricity--something akuma could recognize. everything else about this experience was strange, foreign, INTENSE. the opening continued to roar, forcefully sucking in the surrounding air and pulling loose objects nearby into its gaping mouth.

do not mistake his initial confusion and inaction for fear. akuma gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed back, and suddenly he knew, and he entered.

———
not set in the wco universe. a creative story intended for entertainment and some thought provocation. i’ll be using this thread to feed the creative writing urges without needing to create an actual character. comments allowed !