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in this endless night

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It's raining, you note as you open your eyes screaming. You don't know where you are.

The moon looks so large and yellow, and the cobblestone tastes like—well, stone, and that's all you can see. It feels gut-wrenchingly lonely.

Reviewing what you know: you're alone, it's a dark, starless, rainy night, on a cobblestone road. You can't see the end or the beginning, and there's and indentation where you were. (It feels so lonely it hurts.)

It's cold, a faraway feeling as you move around screaming. You can just roll, sure, but screaming speeds up the process.

There's white flames in the distance, and your life vaguely flash through your mind as you roll along, still screaming. You collect it, feeling that it might be important. An orange flame swirls along your path.

You don't really know where they do but still you do your best to collect them.

There's pitfalls all along the road, some of which you successfully jumped over, but as you think over being 25 (arrested for impersonating a doctor?) you jumped too late, instead falling down the abyss you see no end of.

You fall down still screaming, slamming face down straight at grey cobblestone.

There's a tree in front of you, buds of white and orange—like the flames, you note—somewhat glowing.

This whole time you've been alone, and you've felt years and years of loneliness. Has it really been that long?

The flames gravitate towards the buds, and you stared, mesmerized as the buds grew, slowly taking shape—those vaguely look like lips and a nose, but the flames isn't enough. It's barely formed.

The orange bud grew to a small, human-like shape, covered by a thin—yet very opaque—layer of... petal? You don't really know.

You rolled off, screaming for more flames.

(Maybe you wont be lonely anymore.)