I’m certain most of you know the feeling of waking up to an unpleasant sound: loud neighbours, road work, cars passing and so on and so forth. For that matter, I also know for a fact that a good portion of you know the feeling of waking up to something pleasant, such as your favourite song or the voice of someone you hold dear. However, how many of you woke up because the silence surrounding you was too loud?
This is a good point to start the story I’m here to tell since I cannot go any further without sharing with someone the mental burden that gnaws at my consciousness every living moment. The following experience, too real to be naught but a dream yet too fantastic to be anything other than that, took place about a week ago. For sake of convenience, we’ll call it a dream. My dream has an indefinite starting point: it begins with me being in a semi-dormant state, slightly aware of my surroundings and laying in an unfulfilling slumber. From the depths of my mind, as a sudden wave of realization hits me, I wake up to notice the absolute, disquieting silence that surrounds me. I open my eyes to see nothing but darkness, and I slowly start panicking as I try to reach out with my hands searching for any material presence to help me pinpoint my location in space. As my fingers manage to touch the surface of a nearby wall, I stand up and start following the wall across its length. Though it’s nearly impossible to distinguish anything in the darkness, as I run my hand across the wall I can feel some protuberances on it. As I kept walking through the deafening silence in complete darkness, I kept wondering about the drawings on the wall and what they could look like. From what my fingers could decipher, a multitude of different patterns was laid out on with some sort of thick paint: if I were to associate them with anything known to me, I would have sworn they were Egyptian hieroglyphs.
How long I have walked for, I could not tell, for the time of this dream-vision was very distorted: it could have been mere seconds or entire hours for all I know. At some point, through the all-engorging darkness, a thin line of light started to shimmer, renewing my energy and my effort to push forward in a direction. As I quickly advanced through the corridor, the light embraced me totally: a deep, blue, foggy, calm yet mysterious and borderline threatening light seemed to engulf the hallway which I could now see clearly. 10 feet wide, the corridor seemed to extend vertically for as long as the mind could comprehend, and the wall that guided me over here had an identical twin on the other side, creating an unsettling symmetric effect. On the walls, just as I mentally pictured them, ancient Egyptian characters were painted, telling their long-lost stories of an empire that worshipped as many gods as the imagination allowed. As I stood there pondering the quality of the work in front of me, I began hearing voices in the distance: some of them were no louder than whispers, but others were actual screams of pain, anguish, desperation or loss. Perhaps the most intriguing part was the source of these voices; although it was clear as day that there was no one behind me in the corridor, it was impossible to deny that I kept hearing those damned souls right behind my back, making me turn around over and over in hope of catching with my own eyes the source of the sound. I kept walking through the corridor, looking forward to finding something, anything, to give my expedition meaning. The sounds of mysery were still surrounding me, and as I could not locate them, I felt both fear and curiosity regarding finally reaching them. The path ran smoothly in front of me, no corners and no turns to excite me in any manner, so as I continued my adventurous travel into the guts of the seemingly endless structure, my mind wandered off. For a reason unknown to me at the time, I started recalling my entire life, from the earliest memories of childhood to the days of the recent present, and as my life unrolled in front of my eyes like a movie, the light in the room started flickering, turning from something already dim to complete darkness.
Just as sudden as it went away, the dim light reappeared and brought with it something phantasmagorically terrifying, something that my subconscious mind was very well aware of even although my rationality wasn’t. Between these suffocating walls that stand tall among the stuffy air, guarding this realm of sufferance and desperation, the God of Death, Anubis, was exactly where you would have expected him to be. He has shown himself to me through no more than a lingering shadow, yet his presence and omnipotence emanated from that simple representation. The corridor in which I previously stood was no longer here; instead, I was now standing in front of a dead end, and right before my eyes, huge scales appeared out of thin air in a menacing manner. “You stand before trial, mortal. Is your feeble heart darkened by sin, or bathed by innocence?”
As he spoke the words directly into my mind, he reached out with his decaying hand towards me. In an instant, agonizing pain shot through my entire body: my flesh was being torn apart, my muscles ripped piece by piece, my blood coagulated and wasted into nothingness as my heart was being pulled out of my own chest. Anubis took it out and placed it on one of the scales, on the other one , a feather appeared to contest my innocence. As I was drawing my last breath, my consciousness fading, I realized how heavy my heart weighted against the feather: I knew eternal damnation would await me as soon as I would lose my vision. Desperate darkness engulfed me.
I woke up covered in cold sweat, my own bed serving as my temporary nightmare prison. Since then, I have been questioning my own sanity, and I cannot go on any longer burdened by the thought of my imminent demise in the deep-buried corridors of Anubis. Heed the warning, and live life as a saint, for no sin is ever worth the infinite soul-shackles the god of Death will place upon you.