There is a point on the horizon. Take that point and split it in two. Split it again, and again, and again until you reach a space, one that cannot be split. Within that space you’ll find the most immense horror you can imagine. Oceans of pain, not just the type of pain that your flesh so poorly translates, but the actual essence of it.
This thing between worlds follows you everywhere you go. Each step you take moves in parallel through this landscape of pure unquestionable pain. Usually you are unaware, yet sometimes a fissure opens and you become vaguely aware of it. The light goes on, the light goes off. Well now that gap, that crease in the fabric of our understanding, well someone cracked it open and left it open, wide enough for the least of it to come trickling into our world. You can see it now. What you are seeing is a taste, a mere glimmer of the true horror that walks in step with us. Our trials, our fights, our tears, all of it replicated in screaming horror not inches from your own soul. Within it, around it. Its there and laughing at you, spitting its dead up at you. To it, death is not a vague concept, it is the truth. It is for all and by all, no matter how ignorant your feeble mind remains. On every plane but ours, there is death and pain, screaming to get in, beating at the edges and now, it has broken through, to slowly recover the sliver of space it lost in an alien time, before the planets and the civilizations that rose from the dirt. This life? This life is a fucking cakewalk.
Each single heartbeat reverberates through the layers of blackness, each echo feeding back on itself, multiplying its horror exponentially and infinitely into the deepest caverns of space.
There is no inverse, there is just it, pacing the lifeless flesh, shaking it deep enough that it moves and makes noise. Filling it with enough hate that it walks, seeking to spread its hate as far and as wide as possible, to eventually claim its own and own it all until every last pinprick drips with the black and complete. Never to be regained by a sentient beast or thought or flower or child or streak of sunlight ever again. For those of you still fighting, this is what you are fighting for. This is the hellish tide that you alone stand within. Feel it flow around you and past you. Feel it gnaw at your every inch, ready to reclaim you the second you drop your eyes or miss your step. It already has you. THIS LIFE. IS A FUCKING CAKEWALK.
There is no end to it, and there is no end to us. Put something, anything in your hand that weighs heavier than their rotted shells. Anything that you can swing, shoot or throw that will reclaim another inch for our kind. Another fucking breath that we can rip from their wasted bodies, their wasted lungs. Their full fucking bellies. They want more, and this land, this piece between these gates, these walls that we built, this piece of land, the dirt below it and the sky above it belongs to every one of you and YET, THEY LIVE. THIS LIFE. IS A FUCKING CAKEWALK.
The gates open and the screams almost start immediately…