All-Worlds

I slowly raised my chest, the air whistling through my nostrils as I slowly stood up. The street ahead of me was empty, and I found myself in a familiar place again. Beneath the rows of strung-up lanterns and unfamiliar rags of cloth stood an eminent darkness that pulled my chest in, the bottom of my ankles almost sliding forward as I felt myself begin to drift towards it. It was a presence so absent of light that my eyes had almost contorted to an unnatural opening to simply gaze directly at it. I had not felt my name for a while; Indeed, I did not know who I was this time. The rows of lanterns and rags above me swayed with an absent wind, and projected shadows of maroon and ember in patterns resemblant of a waning moon atop a foggy summer night as I continued to drift towards the presence.

I seemed to be moving closer and closer, but I felt nothing but a small tug at the back of my throat. And then, a great wind escaped my mouth, and a violent whistling escaped from my insides, imparting an almost feral howl as I felt the inside of my body create something resemblant of a swan-song, before everything went dark once more.

A moment passed before I found myself an eternity away. This time, somewhere even closer.

“Kappen!” I heard, blurted into my right ear by a burly, treble voice. I bolted upright, finding an overwhelming light shining against my pupils. The environment wrapped around me, almost smothering me in its aesthetic numbness. Hatched patterns, raised like tiny hills and repeating in squares above, below, and around me, contained a singular, shining fluorescent light. There is no door. I looked down, finding my body to be composed of various white straps wrapping around a centerpiece. Wait, no. Those are binds. I am bound by them. And I do not know where the voice came from. I look around for anything, but I am met only with white.

Once more, all goes dark again. This time, I am surrounded by scenes of a certain figure. At first I noticed that it has the same flat, thin nose down from the nostrils up to the bridge. The length of her arms. The breadth of her hands as she washes her hands in the kitchen. At a younger age, when she is trekking what looks to be a forest. All flowing from the deep dark that surrounds me, and the odd geometry of the scenes before me - a sort of tesseract. Perhaps this is who called my name? I cannot tell as I cannot blink, nor scream, nor move. The rhythm of my heart is nonexistent as I simply gaze atop the rest of my body below my neck, a statue channeled with the elixir of life but whose powers hadn’t reached its surface. I was an object. And… And…

I do not awake on the floor this time - I pace. My skull vibrates with the sound of my feet against the hard floor below. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Despite having awoken I have no control over my feet. But this time, I am in that same familiar place. That white room that greeted me in a past time. I do not know what time it is - I only know that it has simply passed. I narrow my eyes. Then - I crash. A great release of air is pumped out of my chest as I hit the wall - but this section is not just white and plush, it is wood. It is not white. It is- I am screaming. I am in pain. And I am no longer pacing forward. I am on the floor, my teeth pressed against the other in alignment, my vision black as I tighten my eyes closed. “Kappen! Are you there?” - All is dark. All is peaceful. This time, I slip back once more.

But this time, I am still there. I am still… me. I- I don’- “..’t know!” - I utter. I slowly stood up, no longer feeling my muscles tight and my eyes tightened into a certain position. I am now in a field of grass, and it is raining. I am under a tree, dressed in something that had hatched my torso with lines of white and patterned over a blue, silky material. A long, black rectangle of cloth ends with a point near my belly, ascending all the way to a point on my neck I can’t see. My feet are not feet - they are shoes. And they are black. I slowly life my head and feel specks of water drop onto the plane of my head, filtering down from the slowly chlorosising tree above. I focus my eyes. Four stones. Gray. Arising from the ground. There are figures etched into them.

F A N N I E H I R A O J A N U A R Y 5 1 9 8 7 - S E P T E M B E R 4 2 0 2 1

E D D Y H I R A O J A N U A R Y 5 2 0 1 6 - S E P T E M B E R 4 2 0 2 1

C H L O E H I R A O J A N U AR Y 5 2 0 0 8 - S E P T E M B E R 4 2 0 2 1

The fourth is empty. But that can’t be - he died five months ago. September 4th, 20-

My head tilts up to the leaves. The leaves… their midribs are still rigid, but their veins slump. The blade is turning to a chiffon yellow. I do not blink as droplets of water catch on the surfaces of my eyes. It’s September. But it wasn’t my fault... It wasn’t my fault that this was the day you chose to drive-

All goes dark. I’m not sure if I was ever awake in the first place. What the fuck is going on? My entire body feels rigid, my eyes fluttering. I am falling but I’m not crashing either. I don’t even feel the resistance of the air. The envelope around me thickens, and it fills my ears. It fills my eyes. It fills my mouth… I scream…

…”KAPPEN!” The entire world jolts sideways, the envelope suddenly casting off my form as my body moves unnaturally to the right, almost like floating in free space, until I find myself staring straight into a pair of dark brown eyes. But his mouth is not open. I gasp - but I gag instead, the mass of my tongue pressing against the top of my esophagus. I said it. I called the name. It was my voice.

The pair of dark brown eyes slowly distance themselves from me, until I find myself gazing upon a man in a simple white coat. A palm of various squares, circles, and tubes finds itself at the end of his right arm. His glasses - which I had not even noticed - clearly permits a sight into the very center of his mind.

“You’re here, finally. Please stop crying out loud for Kappen. He is no longer with us. And I do not wish to be reminded of him.”

He thrusts his hand into my mouth. I try to kick and scream, but I feel my wrists and ankles being pushed down and patterns of pressure akin to hands holding down a cylindrical appendage. I feel one of the circles slide down your throat; Then a cylinder; Then a square; And another cylinder.

Everything is dark once more. The darkness does not let me rest this time. An organ plays as I am engulfed by the field once more. My stomach sinks. I instinctively feel like I’m being watched. I slowly turn my head to the right. The stones. Fannie. Eddie. Chloe.

Kappen.

I read.

K A P P E N V I E R I N G M A Y 5 1 9 7 9 - S E P T E M B E R 4 2 0 2 1

…K-Kappen. I’m not Kappen… He’s dead…

My head falls in shame. The grass beneath me feels hard and unyielding, and smoothened by a dew of moisture that had glazed itself across its gray surface. It feels prickly in some places, almost like grass poking into my ankles.

JOHNHIRAOJANUARY41984-

I drop to my knees. The slate shatters.

I lift my head again. The gravestones are no longer there. I squint my eyes. The field now continues to the horizon, its declination ever so off from what I know. The trees in the distance just barely stick out too much as they descend into the setting sun. And next to them are four heads, sticking out of the horizon. The backs of four heads. One, slightly slim with a purple blouse with running jet black hair, and a small ponytail above it. Another, smaller, with a simple head of black running down into the horizon. Another - barely visible. Its hair is full yet patchy in odd places.

And one more - light brown. Combed to the side. The tips of a pair of glasses nested behind the top of each ear.

I close my eyes. When I opened them again, I never woke up.

I will die by catatonic shock in a federal prison, inside its psychiatric wing, July 4, 2022.