Darkness

It's getting dark.

Visions of green- and gold-colored orbs are floating around me, spinning, threatening my very existence. All I can hear is this eerie, high-pitched noise, echoing through the corridors wherein haunts endless vibrations and brain-waves; it sounds not unlike the index-finger-sized crickets that ruthlessly invest homes in Yuma, Arizona, only slightly higher and 3 times more obnoxious. It's getting louder.

I'm delusional.

The orbs have transformed now. Instead of glowing spheres, they've all turned into bright-blue stars; the once-smoothed edges of miniature planet-like objects have become razor sharp. The sky must be falling. It can't be. They're spinning ever-so-close to my person. I'm scared.

It's now dark. Pitch black. What will happen now that all lights have been shut off and the darkness has taken over completely. Light must yet remain in somebody's heart.

Flashes of light. Brilliant. Imagine being on the top of a mountain; the sky is embedded with dark, unforgiving shapes. Lightening; bright flashes of electricity just before your face, your eyes tear up at the instantaneous reversal of their pupil-dilation. Your head begins to pound. Your body ceases entirely.

The volume of the cricket-like scream is increasing; intensifying. The darkness more immense, completely overtaking the frozen earth upon which you struggle to remain standing, ever-staggering.

I am surrounded.

An hour passes by. Two. Five. No, three. Time is now an illusion. Hands cramped up. Must hit pause. Must save state and rest while I still can, until the yellow dwarf can send forth its plasma rays and penetrate this dark cloud and these perpetual, pulsating flashes of light. Mixtures of green and gold orbs and blue stars, those relentless, selfish, life-absorbing fiends, now surround me completely; they move in. Not life-absorbing; life-sustaining. Warmth.

Light on the horizon.

I'm saved.