Thought via Path

"He is stepping on a blind staircase. Hopes and dreams filled in his tiny head. Yet darkness keeps those far away. It is so dark that he’s starting to feel ill.

A fearsome nyctophobic.

The ceiling is just above his head. Though, he doesn’t know the distance between. Still, it seems a hair close to him.

Close enough to make him feel quite claustrophobic.

The stair itself creaks. Filled the staircase with sounds and voices. Irrational noises. It creaks so much that he must be constantly aware, of the fall that may eventually comes. Noise echoes deep down below, creeping his awful sorrow. 

It is a bit acrophobic.

He keeps on moving. Stepping forward, step by step by step. By every careful step he makes, he keeps holding onto the hand-railing. He has such an extremely high faith on it that his hand seems glued to the rail. It’s the only thing he trusts in spite of all his distorted senses.

Forgotten to the unfortunate man, a sense of purpose. A purpose that he left far behind the stairs. He clings on a tiny rope of hope and pushed by a shallow stream of dream.

For an eternity, he’s being trapped in that staircase. Neither get back down below nor greet the exit above.

He’s strangely lost. Long lost in transition. 
It’s certainly weird. A weird point of no return.”

A prologue to Dementia.
Chapter I: Departure.

Muhammad Iskandar Satriyo Utomo. – Read on Path.

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