"It hurts!"
"Everywhere hurts!,"
"Why is it so hot?"
Ziko felt like he had been thrown into a furnace, burning pain spread throughout his body like flames licking the candle wax, driving him towards insanity.
The pain surged relentlessly, increasing in intensity, his screams matching the torment's aggravation.
"Move!"
"Come on, for goodness' sake, move!"
He urged his body forward, desperate to escape this place. But where was "here" exactly?
Internally, Ziko screamed as he struggled to move, but his efforts were in vain. He couldn't even feel any part of his body, let alone move it. It was as if his brain had disconnected from his body.
"What's happening?"
"I can't feel my body, and this pain is making it hard to think."
"Where am I?"
"Did I end up in a giant oven after last night's madness?"
Ziko attempted to calm down and gather his thoughts, but the pain clouded his thinking. But as though mocking his efforts, the pain surged again, thwarting his attempts.
And once more, he screamed, the pain pushing him to the edge until his consciousness slipped away.
When Ziko regained awareness, he felt different, as if he had shed layers of clothing. He could now move and see.
But he didn't like what he saw.
He found himself in an endless empty space, darkness all around, except for a faint white mist leading to a large black metal gate.
The gate was ajar and the mist seeped out, beckoning him in an eerie way.
"'Jumping from the frying pan into the fire' – that's exactly what this feels like. Never thought I'd live long enough to experience this idiom," he chuckled at his own irony.
Surveying his surroundings, Ziko tried to make sense of his situation.
"Okay, I'm either dead, or this is an incredibly bizarre dream."
"And why is the gate black? This doesn't feel like heaven."
After some hesitation, he followed the white trail towards the gate, hoping it wasn't the entrance to hell.
Inches away from the gate, it emitted an eerie black light, accompanied by a creaking sound as it slammed wide.
The mist no longer blocked in by the gate, surged forward, pouring out and enveloping Ziko. For a moment, he lost his bearings, feeling a force pull him deeper into the fog.
Despite his resistance, Ziko couldn't fight the pull. Helplessly, he moved toward the gate, and oddly enough, the black gate flickered slightly, as if acknowledging his presence.
"It's welcoming me?"
"Who would want a welcome from a black gate in what seems like the afterlife?"
"And where's my 'Don't go towards the light' warning?"
"Sorry, gate buddy, if you were white, I might at least smiled back or something."
"Oh fuck, is that racist?"
He succumbed to the force, and the gate closed shut behind him.
Released from the pull, Ziko regained control over his body.
"Is this body even mine anymore?"
He sighed, examining his surroundings, but the thick mist limited his visibility.
He moved cautiously, hands outstretched to feel for obstacles. After some progress, he noticed a change.
"Wait, there's soil on the ground now."
"What was I standing on before?"
Puzzled, he stepped back, but the ground remained unchanged.
"It's like a maze, and I can't go back. Every step is irreversible."
He paused and then bent to pick up some soil.
"So, this is what hell's soil is like."
"Why does this feel so familiar?"
Ziko shook his head, trying to place the familiarity.
"Maybe I've been to hell before," he joked as he continued into the fog.
"Ah, yes, hell!"
"I've been there, worked there!"
"This is graveyard soil!"
No wonder it felt so familiar.
Thoughts raced through Ziko's mind, narrowing down to two possibilities: he was in hell, where the soil resembled graveyard earth; or he was in a cosmic graveyard, although being alive in space shouldn't be possible.
"How do I even know I'm alive?"
He followed the mist's guidance, believing in its subtle cues, thickening and lightening in certain directions.
"Given my location and experiences, I'm ready to believe anything."
As the mist gradually thinned, Ziko's visibility improved. He saw something in the distance.
"Is this where I'm being led?"
He questioned his own thoughts as he made his way forward, finally seeing his own feet.
"Is this it?"
With every step, his visibility improved, and he could faintly make out an object ahead.
Increasing his pace, Ziko rushed towards it. He didn't know what it was, but anything other than the eerie mist felt welcoming after an eternity spent here.
Drawing nearer, he realized what it was– a statue, though he couldn't decipher whose.
"First graveyard soil, now a statue. My space graveyard theory isn't far off, I guess."
Closing the distance, Ziko approached the statue – a man, twice his height, gripping a large stone sword anchored in the ground.
A knight, perhaps?
"No crest, maybe more of a mercenary. But why a statue for someone like that?"
Something felt off.