story thang part 2

Time: (?);
Location: (?)

Sonera

A cat face. Whiskers and all.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this is the entire of Astar’s real
face: a black tall hat donning a charming calico facade.

So, I suppose that it’s right to say that Astar is a girl cat.

“I use it to protect myself,” he grumbles, as if this was a bad thing. But
to protect himself from what? Again I could not speak, my lips zipped
and tight like a walnut shell. But at least I could feel now.

 And boy do I feel.Feeling like the last eternity of
what was my life had never happened; was nothing more than a dazed,
sinister dream?

Everything here was loud, even though not a single echo, whisper, tread could be heard
besides our own, along with the sounds of our shallow breathing.
Shallow. Yes, that’s the best way to describe it. In
describable shallow and thin, our breaths are, and to top it off not
in sync so as to create an upsetting wispy effect.

So it goes to say that we’re no longer in the world where I’ve lived my
whole life in. Surrounding us is nothing except total blackness.
Besides the thick, pasty vacuum of sound this place has, though –
otherwise, there is nothing. In all honesty, the complete emptiness
of it all – as if all thought and words and, maybe, people,
will be sucked into it – has been jarring me ever since Astar
and I have entered it. Astar never seemed to have anything against
this strange place, but perhaps it’s because of his
“experience”; besides, he seems to always be of much
better strength than me. Perhaps it’s the food that the house
offered?

“You have some color on your face now,” Astar comments nonchalantly. For some
reason, this reminds me of the anger I so fondly had before, as if
the anger was being born again…and then I wonder why I have
unexplainable urges to be so violent.

It’s like I’ve awoken from a year’s worth of rest and have lost everything
when I woke up,  including my control over my feelings.

Though…of course, no one knows how that feels.

I test my throat out, preparing to speak. The air is thick and dry, and the house I
had once lived in is just a dim memory.

“Yeah.” I say, though my words are immediately lost in the vacuum. My ears
start to hurt.

With each step we take together, our feet become wet from stepping in what feels
like shallow puddles of water, shallow enough just so that stepping
in them could ease the surface tension of the ground below that hugs
the soles of our feet. I guess I shouldn’t say that for Astar,
though; I’m the one wearing no shoes (but then again, what was
he wearing?).

I never dare to look downwards, however, because again what will meet my eyes is just a
same aspect of absolute nothingness,
and for one reason or another I’d feel mocked, somehow, by this
place, for being so ignorant, relying only on this masked stranger to guide
me over its unsuspected depths. And to top it all off, I cannot even
see his (fake) face, or any part of him, or even my hands
and feet, save
for a pathetic white outline that flickers on and off periodically.

“Steady there,” Aster cautions, gently squeezing my hands. Unlike mine,
his weren’t clammy and wet, like he had drowned in the depths
beneath us.

Again, I find it impossible to respond. The stiffness of my facial muscles is beyond
pathetic.

I refuse a flood of
thoughts – thoughts that may or may not be mine –
charging into my head. So
this is another type of feeling, too I
think carefully, picking out my words.

“You know,” Aster says right after, again breaking through the thick wall of
silence that so easily erupted between us.  For a moment there, I was
able to breathe easily, as if the wispy air has finally turned into
something fairly substantial. “At some point near this I would
be suggesting to you, offering you a choice whether or not you want
to continue. Most people that I’ve met at this point can’t
stand the weight of everything they’ve done in the past, in
particular, sins. That’s an okay feeling; however, later, they
disappear.”

Sins?

“I…don’t understand,” I manage. I watch him sigh, then realize that the
exhalation of Astar’s breath is the basis of which I inhale –
because mere seconds later, even while pondering upon the subject, I
found myself inhaling in this air. Is there any other air in here? I wonder.

It’s like we’re two lights of life in the darkness, partners in crime
that are both somewhat symbiotic in nature. Alright…

“I…I don’t like the word ‘disappear’ you mentioned.
You’ve seen other people disappear before?” I add.

“ I have.” He mumbled. Pause. “It’s not so
bad.”

Through his outline I watch him bow his head slightly, as if there’s anything to be
ashamed of in our conversation, or in our air-tight sightless space,
in fact.

An eerie yellow glow lightens between us, emphasizing our shadows, yet still small and
near completely inconspicuous. Astar doesn’t even pay any
attention to it – or, if he already has seen it, doesn’t
bother to stare at it like a newbie as I do. If only the light, as
small as it is, aids in showing the end to our journey – of
which all this time I’ve been too much a coward to question
Astar about, since he still proves to be too mysterious to trust, too
filled with questionable credentials to even ponder upon this route
he’s taking me on. Hell, if I could choose another guide, I
would. But then again, maybe this is my best choice…

My legs are slowly
growing weary and starting to ache. I look to Astar’s
silhouette, but he doesn’t even hint at a break. I would expect
him to be nitpicking at my thoughts, or at least looking them over;
how else would he find entertainment in such a terribly dull
environment? Not that I mind the complete lack of privacy. My first
thoughts, and already I doubt the property owner – especially
since I can’t even read Astar’s expression, let alone his
thoughts (though then again, he probably can’t read my
expression, either).

With very minimal
transition between our previous musings, however, Astar’s pace
comes to a screaming halt. I barely manage not to stumble over and
crack my head open. His hand seems to lose its warmth, too –
but then I realize that the hotness of my own sweaty hand makes up
for the lack in heat in Astar’s. What
a relief that this smug cat that will allow for his guest to topple
over completely has a reliance on me, too I
think bitterly.

His hands tighten on
mine, like mine did to his in the beginning.

And for a moment, I
feel like I could read his mind. Only a few words at a time, of
course Live. Us. There. Special.

And “You would
be perfect for this.” Whatever that would mean.

Smirk.

And for some reason,
as I give my first nod, the nod of a real girl. And I know – or
at least I hope
– that
this wouldn’t be the last time I purely feel his smirk.

Not as we, via my
consent, fly through the miniscule white tunnel that appeared the
moment of my nod, into a world where we wouldn’t have our
puppet-like strings tugged as was my previous home. But frankly, not
even Astar knows completely of the world we intruded into.

Something’s
going horribly wrong.