The world all around is bleak and empty. Each footstep and breath is echoed into infinity as Jane stumbles around the dreamscape. The darkness isn’t cold or abysmal, only thick and quiet. There is a rustle of motion behind Jane. She turns to see a replica of herself standing, blindingly luminous from some unnatural light source. Jane slips through the darkness, unable to see her own hand in front of her face, but guided by the doppelganger lighthouse standing before her. The soupy black holds her back, but defiantly she takes one step after another and pushes her way through the world around her to come face to face with herself. The light of understanding glistens off the face in front of her, Jane stares at her own face, but no words are said.
“Who am I?”
The face gazes blankly at Jane for only a moment, then swiftly and without hesitation, a finger flashes up and with pursed lips a hiss echoes over and over again, becoming an ear-splitting buzz that forces Jane to cover her ears. Down on her knees, crouching over in pain, she tries to look up. The strain blurs her vision but she can make out her double trying to say something, but only noise and static comes out, she attempts to cover her mouth, stop the noise, but to no avail. From the darkness a gray figure, much like the first steps into view. Tears flowing out from behind hands that are covering her eyes, Jane recognizes the figure as her own and she is crying, a dead child at her feet. Jane falls back horrified, but is pulled back in, hand still cupped over her ears, trying to block the squealing cacophony steadily growing all around her. She screams suddenly only to find herself in the bed of the motel, sweaty and exhausted.
As inspired by this photo by Scott James Prebble to be exact.
I hope it will suffice.
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