Lengthy Strings

Rob Weever had a penchant for getting high in very peculiar ways. One time he had gotten himself high on chewing greasy tire bits, another time he took it upon himself to lick a marker pen as if it was ice cream. Those were the outliers, though. His usual go-to methods were sniffing perfumes, acetone, or auto asphyxiation.

Rob enjoyed the sensation that came along with placing a plastic bag over his own for extended periods of time. The oxygen deprivation made him feel like a god. Wrapping the plastic crown around his face, he tightened it as hard as he could, holding his breath until his head felt light and the dizziness hit him like a whip across the skull.

Rob untangled himself from his pleasure prison. Relishing in the effects of his debauchery, he stared into dead space. Absent of thought and of reason. The room seemed to spin and bounce all around him. The walls, the floor, the furniture; Cosmos danced around in a manic waltz before the masochist’s eyes.

Everything moved at a visible frequency, like visual sound waves. The fabric of the space unraveled in front of a man’s eye. Rob noticed the strangeness of it all; strings penetrating any and every thing. Comprising the entirety of reality.

He stood up, quickly finding out his body had become too massive for his legs to carry him. Falling under his own gravitational pull, he crashed into the floor. Collapsing into the depths of Tellus that spread underneath his form like a thinly interwoven net of microscopic threads growing larger and larger the deeper he sank into a world of sheer interconnectivity.

Surprised to find himself strewn about on a stretch of jagged, pulsating concrete, Weever’s thoughts and eyes spun around restlessly as he observed the world around him waving like turbulent ocean waters. Straining to form a coherent thought, the pain-connoisseur struggled to get back up to his feet. In part distracted by an uncomfortable sensation crawling in the back of his breathing pathways. Something was trying to get out, a rebellious little creature dwelling in the depths of his skull. Robert struggled and strained to breathe out the intruder, but it wouldn’t leave for long moments. Finally, with the explosion of a thunderclap, the parasitic invader clawed its way out of his nasal cavity. An array of fabric tentacles shot their way out of his nose, flying a great distance before landing between the newly exposed strings comprising the pavement below.

The entire world seemed to stand still for but a moment as the threads of reality unraveled themselves, once more exposing the great nothing between everything. For a brief moment, he could see the void as it awaited in silence. An icy burning wave of existential dread washed over his form as he and the abyss locked eyes for a nanosecond.

The world seemed to dance itself back into a liquid form as the destroyer of his own temple gradually steadied himself on his feet. The strings of actuality became barely visible once more. He stumbled his way across the concrete ocean, hoping his unpleasant intoxication would end soon enough.

Stumbling forth, he nearly landed head first once he saw the shadowy silhouette swinging from the edges of buildings and dimly shining street lights. A strange entity that moved about as an acrobatic monkey danced and swirled through the air like an intergalactic aerialist.

Each touchdown of the shadowy thing caused ripples through the fabric of reality, turning the strings of everythingness slightly more visible. Sending shock waves of supersonic flashes of paranoia through the emissary of self-destruction.

The closer it got, the bigger the shadow it cast became, and the more palatable its weight had become. A miniature cosmic giant’s gravity pinned Weever’s feet to the ground as the entity soared before his eyes. Landing right in front of him, sending waves of terror and sheer velocity through his frame.

Wild eyes and a maniacal smile stretched over its plastically black and white face. Its limbs and fingers rope-like, its body knot-like. Its presence a nauseating contortion in the fabric of space-time. The thing didn’t wait long to torment Weever even more. It grinned, exposing a network of strings interwoven and intertwined in themselves. The uncanny resemblance to a whale’s jaw didn’t sit well with Weever’s stomach, as his dinner started bouncing back and forth inside his rabidly inflating abdomen. He didn’t have much time to process the absurdity of his situation as the ape-man simply grabbed the concrete below him and tore it open, pulling apart the grey wires of materia to slowly unzip a yonic cavern in the surface of the rubbery ocean.

The breathless man fell through the levels of pulsating fleshy, moist, self-masturbatory loosely interconnected nets within the crevice. Screaming and thrashing, he soared into the levels below. The more ruckus he made, the damper and more vibrant his surroundings became.

He was slowly descending towards his eventual arrival at the shores of loss of sanity when he noticed the grotesque array of straw dolls hanging all around him, drowning in a sickening layer of liquid threads sliming down their frames.

Fighting the urge to vomit his own soul into the wormhole he was trapped in, the Achephiliac failed to notice the tightly knit web below him approaching critical visual mass.

Before he knew it, a terrible impact befell his entirety. Sending a rolling, cracking, dry moan cascading across the walls of the world as his body collided with the roped surface in a climactic collision at the altar of God’s creation.

The pain slowly subsided as he stared absentmindedly at the web of hanging humanlike dolls hung tightly on the gallows of an arachnid web of temporal wavelengths.

A loud rattle echoed to his right. His eyes instinctively rolled to the right place at the wrong moment. Forcing him to watch as a silhouette shot a string through another, disassembling it upon impact for but a fleeting moment, exposing the strings of organicity holding the silhouette together before the wavelengths interclenched themselves tightly once more, while a string formed from its shape and pulled itself into the mass of deathtrapped mock-humanity.

The offending figure noticed Weever’s presence and his fate became sealed. Still immobilized from the impact of his fall, he was unable to do anything as it fired yet another string. He could only watch in anxious anticipation as it grew closer and closer, shredding the fabric of reality in its path.

Before long, it reached him, tearing him from within himself and into an upward trajectory, leaving him stranded inside an empty ridden with strings and threads of incomprehensible composition stretching into absolute infinity.

Flying beyond shapes and forms of tubular and tentacloid resemblance, he descended higher and higher beyond the valleys of thinly stretched gloomy monotony. Headed straight beyond the breaking point of the fabric of lucidity at the top of the ladder of neuropsychic supremacy.

Higher and higher – deeper and deeper into a sea of interconnected synapses and plexuses bound together by their resistance to the vacuum of eternity.

After a mind-shattering journey through the pits of the unseen inner workings of cosmic plasticity, he finally came to a stop. Landing in a space entangled in a wide web of webs composed entirely of strings of many colors, lengths, and shapes. He tried picking himself up but quickly found out his body had become nothing but the ropes of madness.

Panicking, he failed to get up to his feet as he became more entangled in a net of supersonic insanity that quickly became the sounds of a drumming and humming orchestra of droning strings. The frantic squirming and twitching of the helpless fly in the spiderweb had caused immense friction, giving rise to a burning hot sphere of inflamed fleshy threads of string at the center of the genesis-fabric. Rob could only stare in horror as his body was growing weaker by the moment while an anthropomorphic string constellation rose from his chest, clutching a pulsating mass of red strings. The string-formation pushed the red mass into the inflamed sphere, chanting repeatedly, ominously, “I am nothing without him. Everything is nothing without him. Without the Undying sun.” Before sucking everything into itself; strings, threads, ropes, the entire entirety. Rob could only silently scream as his spaghettified essence was being pulled into the impenetrable darkness of the supermassive, string-formed black hole.

Thus were the final threats of sentience flowing out of splattered brain matter strung up on the floor.