Unus Annus

content:

Static.

The Lonely Human creaks open his eyes. He is still floating through the Void. Of course he is - what else has he ever known? He looks down at his body. He hasn’t wasted away, nor has he sustained any injury at all.

Static. “What- What-”

He looks around, searching for where the noise is coming from this time. It is eerily quiet - too quiet - and the crackly voice is coming from all around him.

“Wha~at would you do if you only had a year left to live?”

He can barely hear the words. They’re echoed and hissy, as if played through some confounded recording machine.

“Would you squander the time you were given? Or would you make every second count?”

He feels a weird sensation all about him, something brushing through his body. The Lonely Human looks around, raises an arm. He realises that it is wind. It is the first physical sensation he has felt in weeks… Months…

“Welcome. Today marks the beginning of our year-long journey where the only certainty is the end.”

His body is thrust forward violently. The wind intensifies tenfold. He feverishly attempts to regain balance, but there is no balance. His limbs dance about wildly in the terrible turbulence as he is blown in all directions. The black, hollowed river has become a real one.

“In exactly 365 days, everything will be erased, along with all the memories accumulated since then.”

The static and the voice are deafening. The wind plunges him further into darkness. His head swirls in nausea and fear. He calls for help. But nobody came.

“Nothing will be saved. Nothing will be retained.”

The Lonely Human scrunches up into a tight ball and closes his eyes, which changes nothing.

“This is your one chance to join us at the onset of our adventure. To make every second count.”

He can’t take it anymore. He raises his head and gazes up into the haunting abyss above him.

“Go away! Make it stop!” he cries; he doesn’t care that the voice won’t respond. “I don’t want your adventure, I just want to go home!”

“Join us now and relish what little time you have left.”

“Just go already! Get out of here!” His throat is torn. Injury at last.

“Or have the choice made for you as we disappear from existence forever.”

“Please!”

“But remember…”

“…Please…”

“Everything has an end.”

“…”

“Even you.”

“…”

“Memento Mori.”

“…”

“Unus Annus.”

The static stops abruptly, but the wind continues unabated.

Obviously inspired by Unus Annus, and in a way was musically inspired by :Turncoat.
This is a revised version of a story from 24 June 2021.