Post by 0 on Oct 19, 2017 19:06:30 GMT
Oo...a door--those always led to cool new places.
Stepping through, the number found itself elsewhere.
On either side brick walls in faded reds and dusty grays rose up, towering high above the grit of a gravel road underfoot.
The number glanced behind it; from this side, the door appeared to simply be a black, gaping maw that reached past the sky, a sky that itself was blacker than black, moonless, starless, sunless.
Everything was in desaturated shades, yet the alleyway did not seem to disappear into darkness after only a few paces; instead, it appeared to stretch on into infinity, in such a way that looking down it almost hurt the mind.
The number, remaining in its wireframe canine form from the city before, continued forward, undaunted.
Shadows were left in the gutters that coursed alongside the walls.
Slowly dark tendrils began to pull themselves out from the cracks, palms with sprays of uneven fingers spreading out on their ends.
The boxy caniform gave pause as they drew close.
Some fell between its lines, others wrapped their hands around the dark framing of its empty body.
The dog parted its jaws and offered up a bark, the deep, rough sound echoing for minutes afterwards.
It seemed to ward off the shadowy hands, scattering them like dust in the wind, but as soon as the silence returned, so did the shadows.
"Stop it--that tickles!" said the number, quickly falling into a fit of laughter when the fingers brushed teasingly across its lines.
The sounds again caused them to burst apart into dark particles that faded away into nothing.
Once its giggles subsided, they came back for yet another round.
The number began to run, its footsteps silent as the night.
In bounding leaps its figure was changed, lengthening and widening those framing lines until it was as a black skeletal pronghorn speeding down the way, its bones built of darkness itself.
"Catch me if you can!" it challenged the hands as it bolted off into infinity.
A second later it dropped out of sight.
The hands fell upon where it disappeared, fingers tapping at the dark, still puddle of mud.
Minutes passed before the number returned, scrabbling at the surrounding gravel surface with bones worn ragged, torn to shredded shadows.
It pulled itself out of the puddle and collapsed but a few feet away, ribs heaving as they drowned in clouds of smoke.
Black noise filled the air around its broken skull, and the hands that began to poke and prod at it once more went unnoticed.
The number gave a gasping whisper, nasal bone pointed towards the puddle, blurred eye sockets staring down the mud.
Stepping through, the number found itself elsewhere.
On either side brick walls in faded reds and dusty grays rose up, towering high above the grit of a gravel road underfoot.
The number glanced behind it; from this side, the door appeared to simply be a black, gaping maw that reached past the sky, a sky that itself was blacker than black, moonless, starless, sunless.
Everything was in desaturated shades, yet the alleyway did not seem to disappear into darkness after only a few paces; instead, it appeared to stretch on into infinity, in such a way that looking down it almost hurt the mind.
The number, remaining in its wireframe canine form from the city before, continued forward, undaunted.
Shadows were left in the gutters that coursed alongside the walls.
Slowly dark tendrils began to pull themselves out from the cracks, palms with sprays of uneven fingers spreading out on their ends.
The boxy caniform gave pause as they drew close.
Some fell between its lines, others wrapped their hands around the dark framing of its empty body.
The dog parted its jaws and offered up a bark, the deep, rough sound echoing for minutes afterwards.
It seemed to ward off the shadowy hands, scattering them like dust in the wind, but as soon as the silence returned, so did the shadows.
"Stop it--that tickles!" said the number, quickly falling into a fit of laughter when the fingers brushed teasingly across its lines.
The sounds again caused them to burst apart into dark particles that faded away into nothing.
Once its giggles subsided, they came back for yet another round.
The number began to run, its footsteps silent as the night.
In bounding leaps its figure was changed, lengthening and widening those framing lines until it was as a black skeletal pronghorn speeding down the way, its bones built of darkness itself.
"Catch me if you can!" it challenged the hands as it bolted off into infinity.
A second later it dropped out of sight.
The hands fell upon where it disappeared, fingers tapping at the dark, still puddle of mud.
Minutes passed before the number returned, scrabbling at the surrounding gravel surface with bones worn ragged, torn to shredded shadows.
It pulled itself out of the puddle and collapsed but a few feet away, ribs heaving as they drowned in clouds of smoke.
Black noise filled the air around its broken skull, and the hands that began to poke and prod at it once more went unnoticed.
The number gave a gasping whisper, nasal bone pointed towards the puddle, blurred eye sockets staring down the mud.
