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I Need to Stop the Knocking

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The shading luminescence of pure white fills this gender-less cube, and I alone lay in the middle. A cube of six sides which appears endless, yet remain claustrophobic. I stare onto the ceiling, hoping to look passed the blank canvas.

In between every inhale and exhale, I hear the sound of silence. A cube of pure quiet, that of which would make the deaf suspicious. The whisper of my voice is nothing more than a vibration along my throat. With each blink, I can hear my lashes brush against me eyelids.  Silence that allows me to hear my heart, beat like a metronome.

A cube where feeling is nonexistent. I feel no texture as I rub my fingers against the floor. I feel no pressure against my sleeping body, almost as if I am hovering ever so slightly off the ground. I feel no wind brush against my hair, no gust to tickle my nose.  I feel no anger, no hunger, no fatigue, and no envy. I have no desire to live, yet I have no desire to see death. The lack of emotion scares me, yet I fear nothing. I am neither awake, nor asleep. Neither at peace, nor in stress. I am everything, yet I remain nothing.

There was a single tap which came from the wall to the right. A tap loud enough to hear, but gentle enough to ignore. There was a knock which came from that very same wall. A knock which gave off a pitch so low, it vibrated my skin. A knock which gave off a pitch so high, it pierced my eardrums. A knock which made me choke on my own breath. A knock which made my brain hemorrhage. A knock which made my heart skip a beat.

I started to sweat, as my nothingness of a life flashed before my very eyes. There was no exposition, and no resolution. No birthing, no birth dates, no breakpoints, no belittlement; there, was absolute balance with absolute banal. A life which seemed to start from a blank cube, and gave sentience to a single soul laying inside. A life centered around the conflict of never ending amnesia for that of which has never existed. A life with no reason; a life, which waits for something to come and give it an answer to a rhetorical question.

There was a second knock.

I arose from my conscious slumber, and began to pace towards the vibration. I walked for what felt like an eternity, but seemed to only be seconds.

There was another knock.

I continued to walk, but the wall came no closer; even though, I can see, I can feel myself moving across the plain. Progression in the third dimensional world, whilst frozen still in a fourth, I continued to walk.

There was another knock.

The small white cube became pitch black, turning into a void of darkness. I tip-toed blind, my hands outstretched before me, walking towards the radiation of the knock. I walked, and walked, and walked; yet, I knew I was no closer to the wall than I originally started.

There was a constant, repeated knock.

A knock which stayed its pace, yet felt irregular, as though time itself was changing. A knock which had a beat that would glitch my body through reality. A knock which I have heard a few times, and within an instant have listened to a million times. A knock which reloads my progression in life, making me take the same first step over and over again. A knock which belabored my thoughts and emotions of the topic at hand. I had to break free by doing the only thing I could pester up within a fraction of time. I began to run. I ran, and ran, and ran; but, became no closer to the edge of the wall. I gradually gained speed, leading to a sprint; but, was no farther than my current position.

“Hello!? Is anyone there!? Why is this happening!?” I yelled, but my muffled lips stopped any noise from passing through. My lips felt stitched close, as though they were replaced with a third cheek of flesh. “Anybody! Please help me!” Each included cry for help did nothing more than stretch and tear the lining of my mouth, causing my skin to become inflated and blistered.

I tried to blink, but upon closing my eyes I was unable to open them. With every attempted blink, all I could see was the pitch black shading of my eyelids, being encumbered with even darker outlines. But… no, this isn't right. I was blinking earlier, I cannot just stop all of a sudden. It seems I have dropped my eyes. Yes, I must have dropped my eyes, it's the only answer. Getting on my hands and knees, I scattered the floor in search of my eyes. My fingers swayed along the glossed floor. A floor with no jagged edges or soft spots. A floor with no displacement of texture. A floor of ice, which slide my body left to right. I searched for my eyes for minutes; no, hours? No, has it been years?

I started to panic, and began breathing intensely; but, I was unable to let air enter or leave my lungs. My nose felt absolutely congested, choking me from the air I desired. I ran my fingers through my hair, but I had no hair. I had no fingers, no nails, no thumbs, nothing. Only palms that ended at the knuckles. I ran my hands against my entire head and there was nothing. No ears, no eyebrows, no chin, nothing. I began clawing at my face, forcing a hole to form across my teeth, but all that occurred was my palms gliding along the cold sweat that covered my head.

And the knocking, the knocking slowly crept behind me, getting louder and louder with each thump. The knocking, I can feel the knocking slowly bashing away at the back of my skull. Each new knock feeling like a nail being hammered deeper into my brain. I can see the knocking and it was behind my eyes, tugging away at my optic nerves. I can smell the knocking, and it made me vomit; no, not through my mouth, but through my skin. The knocking took control of my hands, and it made me attack myself. Each knock to the head shattered my skull into smaller and sharper pieces. The knocking took over my heart, and each beat slowly but surely obliterated my rib cage. With each new knock, my heart contracted back and forth, and back and forth. With each new knock, I can feel my muscles and tendons contract back and forth, and back and forth.

The knocking!

The knocking!

The knocking!

I can feel my skin break the sound barrier as I fled from the knocking. I ran as fast as I could, and the knocking, it chased. I can feel my knees pop with ever step; and, the knocking, the knocking filled my lungs with water trying to drown me. I ran faster and faster, when my legs gave out, I ran faster and faster. But… no, the pain. I want to stop. Why can't I stop running? My legs, I cannot control my legs. The knocking. The knocking is controlling my legs. The knocking forced my calves to move back and forth. All I could feel was the tender pain of my joints, and it boiled through my entire body.

I need to stop running, but I can't stop running.

I need to scream, but I can't scream.

I need this to stop, but it won't stop!

I began punching my thighs, each strike feeling like a bullet piercing through my legs. I need to stop running. Using all of the force in my body, I attacked my left leg, slowly ripping the flesh. I need to stop running. I tore through the skin, I tore through the muscle. When there was nothing left but bone, I punched left and right; nonstop, trying to shatter the bone but it would not break. I need to stop running. I put my left hand over my hip, and my right behind the calf, and I began to pull. I need to stop running. I twisted my leg, the only noise I feel is the grinding of fractured components in my femur. I pulled and pulled, and finally I ripped it free. I threw it. I threw my leg into the black abyss. I needed to stop running!


The knocking continued, and my right leg began to hop. With each hop, I can feel my toes dislodge further from their sockets. With each hop, I can feel the patella in my knee twist. With each hop, I can feel the joints in my hip, clash repeatedly. I need to stop hopping. I need to stop hopping!

I screamed!

I screamed! 

I screamed! 

Finally my mouth was free. I can feel my voice bleed its song of anguish. I can feel my tongue dance its disjointed melody. I can feel my teeth fracture against each other. I bit into my right thigh, yanking out chunk after chunk of meat. I need to stop hoping. I flossed my teeth with my very veins. I need to stop hopping. I bit into the bone, and broke it like a toothpick. I needed to stop hopping!

I fell to the ground… and fell… and fell… I cannot stop falling. And the knocking followed. Each new knock felt like a cement floor slamming into my body. Each new knock shattered every nerve, over and over again. Each new knock gave me a concussion, worse than the last. Each new knock.

I need…

To stop… 


I need to stop falling! 

I need to stop falling! 

My arms contorted at the speed of light, tearing through the fabric of reality. I need this pain to stop. My arms were nothing more than a blur of an unseen image. They pulled farther out with each struggle, ringing themselves from their sockets. I need this pain to stop. Pulling as far as they possibly could, they continued to twist. I need this pain to stop. My shoulders cracked a countdown of agony. The countdown started from a million, working it's way down to four… three… two… my arms ripped themselves from their sockets. I need this pain to stop!

I need…

I need...

I need to wake up!

Wake up!

Wake up!

Wake up! 


The final stage of death is acceptance, but I've accepted that death will never come. I fall through a distraught anguish, yet I lay in a never ending purgatory. The knocking came to a halt, never to punish my soul ever again. I feel no sorrow, no anger, no regret, and no torment. No, I feel a pain much worse.

I feel a pain much worse…

I feel a pain... much worse? I feel nothing. I feel no pressure against my sleeping body, almost as if I am hovering ever so slightly off the ground. I hear no sound. A cube of pure quiet, that of which would make the deaf suspicious. I remember… I remember… was there a tapping?


The shading luminescence of pure white fills this gender-less cube, and I alone lay in the middle.

Written by Kaptain DTSW
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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