MicroHorror

The air was harsh, the world cold. Whiteness surrounded me, clouding the sky and clutching my ankles. Every step taken was tough; then again, there’s never any easy steps taken in life.

I walked and walked some more; all the while snow smacked my face. Coming to a halt, I looked up. It towered over me, round, huge, white and pulsing with light. White on white. The massive structure blended in perfectly with the snow. If not for the yellow-orange pulse, I would never have noticed the structure in the first place. To my own surprise, a smile spread across my face. It felt funny to smile, being accustomed to frowning was a constant in life.

The light reminded me of a tale my mother told me in my youth. Long ago, when she was young, a great ball of fire stood in the sky, breathing life into the world. Beautiful plants covered the ground, a vast array of colors rather than the cold, stark white of today. She said it blazed day in and day out till one fateful day there was no blaze, just a cold darkness, overwhelming. Then the snow came down and it never stopped coming.

I contemplated these things and more while watching the snow melt under the light’s rays. Perhaps a god plucked it of the sky and trapped it in the walls of this building. Is there a way to release it, give it a chance to escape and return to its former glory?

Snow continued to melt in the light, transforming into hot drops of liquid. I felt a deep longing for the light well up inside of me. My feet started to move forward, bringing me closer to my goal with each step taken. I stepped into the rays of light, bathing in its warmth. The warmth soon eased into an intense heat, baking my skin. An entire life of paleness now swapped out for a tantalizing tan. Popping, crackling all led to the delightful sizzle. Firm, tough skin began to melt, dripping my essence into the ground, replenishing it, delivering nutrients long overdue. I reach out my hand–if you may call it that–closer to the light, attempting to grasp its heat in the folds of my palm. I continued to melt away but I knew my sacrifice would not go unnoticed.

I ventured out, into the yard, to watch the children play, feeding my inner delight for days long gone. My legs are tired and weak or maybe my legs have grown tired of me. All I have left are memories, vessels into the past.

When I’m not reminiscing, I’m teaching. I love to see their bright faces light up after learning something new, that certain click in the mind. Sometimes, I sit and watch them play–giggling, laughing. But there is one boy that sits alone–not one of my students–he goes by the name of Johnny. I always wanted to talk to him but I could not bring myself to do it. Today, I will talk to him. I must.

Johnny sat with his ear to the ground, listening. Listening attentively for something. Striding over to where he sat, I cleared my throat. His small eyes glanced at me, then back to the ground.

“Johnny, may I ask what you are listening to?”

He lifted his head. “The hum.”

“The hum of what?”

“The hum of the world.”

I put my ear to the ground, listening. At first there was nothing but then a sound came to my ears, unlike any I have ever heard before. I imagined a great beast clawing dirt, groping in the darkness. Shuddering, I could not rid myself of the image.

“Johnny, what happens when the hum stops?”

“The end.”