Well, I'm a human male with access to the internet.
You’re alone. It is dark. Everything is quiet.
This is a different type of quiet, though. It’s the type of silence where the vacuum of nothingness pierces your ears like a burning fire. Devoid of your senses, you sit and dwell on everything, but at the same time, on nothing. Lacking any discernment between night and day, dreams and reality, and your own voice and that of the voices around you, you sink into the inviting embrace of the ground. “See how I blend in with nothing?”
That sweet, terrible voice. The Timestealers. They meet you in the night, rob you of yourself, and leave you- emotionless, without an identity, and a shell of the person you once were.
The beautiful irony of the Timestealers’ kill is that you continue to live on. Following in your own footsteps becomes a way of life. Pretending to be yourself is the cruel game you must play every day. “Killed by the weakness, but forced to return… Feeling surrounded. So bored with mortality… It won’t be all right, despite what they say.” Irony persists. Hope is a smoldering ember. The Timestealers have won. We lie in heaps- broken, defeated- as the murderous tribe continues on.
This is my last message. My will and testament. The Timestealers are close. I can hear them whisper, “Poisoned hearts will never change, walk away again.”
“It’s hard to notice gleaming from the sky when you’re staring at the cracks. It’s hard to notice what is passing by with eyes lowered.”
I hope that I get this out soon enough. I hope that some of you can be saved because it’s already to late for many.
Louder and louder. They’re getting closer. They say that in your last moments, you are given a choice. Join Them or perish. In a way, the choices are one and the same.
I’ll leave you an a brighter note, if I can think of one.
“I’m drawn to a blackened sky as I turn blue.” 16 years end, “still speaking in these tongues. Such revelations while understood by no one.” Will I give myself to them? Will I become a monster?
The age of human intrusion is ending. The Earth is on a path of self-correction. The Great Purges, lead by the Shadowspeakers, the Timestealers, will soon begin. Are we as helpless as we seem?
How do you fight an invisible foe?
They’re here. This is it. Their voices… so quiet… so peaceful. I want to let go.
I’m going to let go. “City lights, like rain, dance and explode,” all for us.
The Timestealers speak, “I will wait for you,” they say, endlessly.
