MicroHorror

I swam through the black goop, only a small pinhole allowing light into the cavernous room. I had awoken here, floating, and I couldn’t see too far ahead of me or behind, or too far through the murk in general. The small amount of light that was there was insufficient for any sensory analysis.

I definitely couldn’t see any way out, and there was no way I could possibly get through the light hole. I eventually found a tiny bit of a ledge outside of the goop and slipped up on to it, covered in the stuff. By the looks of it, it should have smelled like tar, but it was closer to the smell of rotting trash mixed with cooking cabbage. I clawed around me, trying to find a higher ledge to slip up on to to see how high in the thing I could get. I also didn’t know how clear my vision would get.

My eyes eventually adjusted, but it was still somewhat difficult to see, and there was definitely no way out of this place. Even though there was no hope of making it through the tiny pinhole, I made my way towards it, knowing that it was my only source of oxygen in this place. The black stuff clung to me no matter how high I went, but it wasn’t that heavy, and oddly enough it wasn’t too slippery as I climbed fine with it on my hands.

I got to the top of the room, hanging almost horizontally on the domed ceiling, and with more than several sighs of relief, I realized the hole was large enough for me to get my arm through. I thought that maybe I could get lucky and the ground or something to stand on was above it, and that the material this pseudo-rock was made out of was flimsy enough to break down with my hand.

I was wrong. I pulled as hard as I could, but the material wouldn’t budge. I let out a hopeless whimper, at that time believing I had nothing I could do to make it out. So I stayed there, clinging to the ceiling with both hands and feet, the black goop moving over and around me and soaking in to my clothes, keeping me cold in the darkness.

After several days of hanging there without sleep, food, or drink, I started to become more than desperate. I realized that if I didn’t do something drastic, I would definitely die, and any hope I had of survival would be destroyed. In a blind, desperate, self-loathing rage I slipped my right arm through the hole in the ceiling, bending my elbow so I was holding myself up with my forearm on the rocky surface. I pulled as hard as I could, hearing my bones crack and my skin tear as I desperately tried to rip my arm off in order to pull down some of the land that kept me locked there. My arm finally broke off and I fell down, the force of my weight pulling me down but the strength I had mustered in my desperate state kept me clinging to the ceiling.

I hung there for a few more days, but by that time I didn’t have any idea of morning or night, days, weeks, or even minutes. I decided that there must be a way out further down that I just hadn’t explored yet, and let go of the ceiling, dropping back in to the black goop.

I fell through it without a splash, being sucked down deeper in to it no matter how much I struggled to gain control and tread it. I felt myself exit the goop and suddenly stop in place.

I felt myself expand to encompass the entire universe, the very particles of my physical being split apart and wafting in all directions. My vision expanded, before being blinked out in to infinite silence. I couldn’t even take a breath.