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墨書 Inktalez
Ethan stood in the boundless darkness, his hands trembling, cold sweat trickling down his neck. He swallowed hard, trying to calm himself, even as fear surged within him like a tidal wave. His voice quivered, sounding so powerless in the silence, "Is anyone there...?"
He hoped for something, perhaps a faint response, even if it was just the echo of his own voice. Yet all around him was a deathly silence that answered him. The sound was like a thick wall, completely swallowing his words, leaving no echo and no sign that any other life existed here.
The still air pressed down on Ethan with an indescribable weight, a pressure emanating from the endless darkness, as if the darkness itself were an invisible predator waiting to consume him. His breathing grew rapid, his heartbeat echoing like a drum in his ears; the surrounding silence became increasingly oppressive, nearly unbearable.
He knew he couldn't stay still forever; he had to take action or be utterly engulfed by this infinite darkness. Ethan took a deep breath and struggled to lift his foot, stepping into the blackness for the first time. That step felt heavy and slow, as if each movement pulled him further away from reality.
However, just as he stepped into the darkness, a piercing sound suddenly surged into his ears. It sliced through the silence like a blade, causing Ethan to flinch. This sound did not come from any external creature but from the most painful memories buried deep within him.
"Where's the money? Where did you spend it this time?" A voice filled with rage echoed in the darkness.
"I told you I've done my best!" another voice responded, laden with exhaustion and helplessness.
Ethan's body stiffened instantly; those voices were all too familiar—his parents arguing over money when he was a child. Their quarrels had accompanied his childhood, becoming an inescapable shadow in his heart. Now these voices rang out like demons in his ears, awakening memories he desperately wanted to forget.
"You don't care about our lives at all! You only think of yourself!" His mother's resentful voice pierced through again, each word stabbing into Ethan's heart like a knife, making it hard for him to breathe.
"I've tried so hard; why are you never satisfied?" His father's voice was filled with frustration and powerlessness.
A sudden sharp pain shot through Ethan's head; he instinctively cradled it in his hands, trying to block out the invasion of those voices. These memories felt like some kind of curse awakened by the darkness, forcing him to relive the helplessness and fear of his childhood. He remembered hiding in the corner of his room, powerless as he watched his parents argue endlessly, unable to do anything. All he ever wanted was a quiet home, but that desire had never been fulfilled.
"Stop... please, just stop..." Ethan pleaded softly, his voice trembling with pain. He dared not move forward any longer, yet an invisible force pushed him onward, making it impossible for him to halt his steps.
The sounds of arguing grew increasingly distant in Ethan's ears, as if they were fading away from the depths of his mind. But as that clamor receded, another, more familiar voice took its place—a silent and indifferent presence that accompanied the deepest memories within him.
It was Grandma's voice, still as he remembered it—sparse in words, always speaking to him in a cold tone. "Are you hungry? Go get something to eat." Grandma's voice was low and calm, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. Ethan felt as if he were once again in that dim, cramped old house, with Grandma sitting in her worn wooden chair, her small frame rigid, her expression perpetually set in a mask of unyielding indifference.
A pang of sorrow surged within Ethan, like a sharp needle piercing his heart. He remembered how lonely and helpless he had felt during those times. Whenever his parents began to argue, he was sent to Grandma's house, as if he were merely a burden, a nuisance. Grandma never spoke much; she rarely showed any concern for him. Her coldness and silence made Ethan feel like someone forgotten by the world.
"Ethan, sit still and don't run around," Grandma's voice echoed again in the darkness, just as brief and harsh as it had been back then. He vaguely recalled that during those years when he was sent to Grandma's place, she never asked him about his parents nor offered him warm embraces. She would simply go about her own business in silence while Ethan spent long nights alone.
At that moment, Ethan suddenly understood that behind that indifference lay deeper resentment and helplessness. As he grew older, these memories became clearer. He began to realize that Grandma's coldness towards him was not merely due to her nature but stemmed from her own dissatisfaction and exhaustion. She had been forced to become a refuge during his parents' quarrels, compelled to care for this abandoned grandson—a heavy burden for her.
"I'm sorry, Grandma..." Ethan whispered, his eyes unwittingly moistening. He finally understood that Grandma's indifference was not directed at him but was a silent rebellion against an inescapable fate. She had never truly hated him; she simply didn't know how to cope with the responsibilities thrust upon her life.
Yet this understanding could not change anything. That indifference still loomed over Ethan's growing years like a shadow, making him feel rejected and lonely when he needed comfort the most. Even though he knew the reasons behind it, the regret and pain had long been etched into his heart, impossible to erase.
The darkness continued to envelop him while Grandma's voice echoed from afar, growing ever more elusive.
Suddenly, a more chilling scene emerged from the darkness. Ethan's memories swiftly shifted to the night of Grandma's passing and the days that followed when he faced everything alone. That moment replayed in his mind like a film, each frame laden with an oppressive weight of anguish.
Grandma appeared before him once more; she sat in that old recliner, her body slightly curled up, her head bowed. Ethan stood before her; as a child then, he did not grasp the true meaning of death—only felt an indescribable chill creeping around him. Grandma no longer spoke or moved; she simply sat there quietly as if trapped in an unending sleep.
At that time, Ethan didn't know what to do and dared not approach her. His feet were rooted by some invisible force; he could only stand there dumbfounded before the recliner, staring at Grandma's cold and stiff body as if she were merely tired and resting with her eyes closed. But as time passed, Grandma's breath had long since faded away; her skin turned pale gray, her eyes clouded and yellowed—as if eroded by time—gradually losing all signs of life.
In those days following her death, Ethan dared not touch Grandma or make a sound. He stood there repeatedly, watching her lifeless body as if frozen by the scene before him. Loneliness and fear swirled within his young heart; he did not understand why no one came or why Grandma lay there so still.
Time seemed to freeze in that room, the air heavy with the weight of death and silence. Until a bug suddenly crawled out from Grandma's already clouded eyes, shattering the stillness. It gently wriggled free from the skin at the corner of her eye, revealing its slimy body, moving with the tremors of the air. In that moment, young Ethan felt an unsettling sensation, as if some invisible fear had suddenly struck him.
His eyes widened, his heart began to race, and it felt as though a lightning bolt had exploded in his mind. Instinctively, he took a step back, his gaze fixed on Grandma's eyes, now invaded by the bug. The creature was like a harbinger of death, making Ethan finally realize that the Grandma before him was no longer the person he knew but a decaying corpse.
At that moment, fear surged within him like a flood. The air around him grew heavier, as if all sounds and sensations were suppressed by this chilling presence. Ethan stood there, frozen in place, unable to move as he watched the bug continue to crawl and ravage Grandma's face, as if heralding some inevitable conclusion.
A wave of unbearable pressure rose in his chest, as if something were lodged in his throat; he wanted to scream but could not produce any sound. He could only silently witness it all, the fear within him gradually expanding until it consumed him entirely.
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