ARGOS III Diary entry :
I had a dreadful argument with Vivian this evening and stormed out. God, it feels good to be away from her and back in my own place, to get away from all that oppression.
I wonder now what I ever saw in her. I can only assume that she's changed. Listening to her waffling on drives me crazy.The silence is absolute.
I'm awake, but it's as though I'm in a dream.
The darkness is so intense. Not so much as a glimmer of reflection in this morass of black.
Am I blind?
No, with scrutiny I can vaguely make out my clenched, bone-white knuckles gripping the protective cocoon of blankets.
Am I awake?
Yes, I feel conscious.
I look around the room. There is nothing, just a solid wall of black.
But wait, there is something.
It's an oppressive and overwhelming sense of evil. A tidalwave of something unwholesome.
At the extremity of my vision I'm aware with an intangible sense that the darkness which surrounds me is alive with a writhing mass of stinking rotting forms. There is no part which isn't mobile. Everything one finds unwholesome when lifting a slab of stone is here. Huge worms of slime distort and fester as they extrude and entwine with each other, tearing one another apart with their convulsions. Out of the slime of their residue they are reborn, denizens of worlds that should not be made conscious to the fragile human mind. It's that awesome feeling one has as a child as one waits in the pensive quiet before a thunder storm. The lightning and sudden onset of rain are such a relief and release of tension.
Taloned fingers of fear tear at the back of my skull behind my ears and then cascade with lightning precision as icy water down my spine, forcing my body into a rigid attitude of animal terror.
There is no way I dare to venture out of bed. There is definitely something out there. My bed and blankets now become a fortified citadel protecting me from the hostile forces of chaos which surrounded me.
I snuggle down further into the blankets, seeing myself as a shipwrecked sailor gripping at his humble piece of flotsam as he waits for unheralded rescue.
My gaze is drawn to the center of the room and now thankfully, my sense of perspective has returned.
A pinpoint of light forms, hovering between floor and ceiling.
I gaze fascinated, as slowly the point becomes a sphere. A jewel of such exquisite proportion.
In origami fashion, the sphere unfolds out of nothing to approximately a foot in diameter.
It draws toward me.
The pressure of silence is so intense, I believe the very air will crack to relieve the strain.
The sphere is just a couple of feet away. Its light in all this darkness is reassuring.
It hovers before me.
After all the strain, the light is a friendly hand, reaching to pull me from my torment, release me from this black abyss.
But no!!
Good God, how close I am to destruction. This light is the terror!!!
The sphere turns into a huge pyramid, composed of a myriad of blinking eyes.
The room disintegrates and the pyramid and I are giants on a colossal plain. It's evening, the setting sun is a huge dry blood beast at the point of defeat against the onslaught of night.
With Gorgon-like quality, the eyes cast a blanket of terror and evil across the land. My lower entrails move up into my throat and I want to vomit. Fortunately, the inrush of air from my heavy breathing restrains me.
I pull away and visualize the sword of power in my right hand. The blade so pure, turns the light of the setting sun into immense flashes of lightning. It hovers, awaiting my judgement.
My arm sweeps down in a perfect arc and smashes the figure asunder.
Nothing. The room is immediately normal, as though nothing has happened.
It's quiet, yes, but it's the quiet one is used to, with the infinitesimal background noises.
I can't believe it. What the hell just occurred?
The blackness has all disappeared and there is now a reassuring warmness about the atmosphere.
I'm sure it's OK to get out of bed now. The air feels safe and clean.
The storm has passed, for the present.
