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Nicholas Morin Nicholas Morin
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(WIP) Part 1: I, Like Dante...

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She had a friend.

This story is a work in progress. It may be a long while before I finish the rest. I have decided to share what I have written so far for feedback on the style and tone I am attempting to use.

Through the fog in which I must have been lost for some time, I began to hear what I took to be a distant voice. This voice reached me in a place I had not realized I was in. It called to me my nature, and mocked me for how I was.

"You lose yourself so easily. You forget yourself too often."

What is this? From where does this voice derive?

Again came the words, "You lose yourself so easily. You forget yourself too often."

"Silence Voice!" I first retorted. "You know no more of me than I do of whose words I reply!"
Silence followed for a brief moment but was broken once again by the same line.

"You lose yourself so easily. You forget yourself too often."

This again made me mad. An unknown soul dared judge another it did not know. It could not know me for I had been alone for so long. Yet still… it made me wonder.

Am I lost?

My thought was interrupted by the voice once more. This time it changed its tune.

"You are lost traveler. You know it to be true. All around you has become distant and unfamiliar."

I felt first to deny the accusation, but something in the tone of what was said struck me to my core. Slowly I began to perceive the fog around me. It was a haze that lasted long beyond where the horizon would begin.

Has it always been so?

"What tricks are these that my eyes now play on me?" I demanded from the Voice.

Then echoing through the darkness came the words, "Now? No, not now but for a while. You lost your way some time ago. This fog has known you since you first strayed."

How can I not have seen the nothingness around me? What had my sight met with in my mind?

"Please do explain how this can be for you seem well informed of what you say!"

I waited there in the dark for word to reach me but no response was offered. I began to feel cold and afraid as the reality of the situation began to take hold. I was then in a place where the little truths I knew had collapsed around me, leaving me isolated from all but my thoughts and a single, taunting voice. It was a voice that made me question those now depleted, little truths. I tried to find my way from there.

This fog grows darker as I wander. How am I to know my way?

I heard a deep laughter come from all directions. My passage felt heavier, and then heavier still with each step I took following as though trudging through a thick snow. I dared to carry on and the laughter came again, this time as though from right behind me. I turned around and called back to it.

"What purpose do you serve Words?!"

What is that?

Far in the distance, I saw at first a blur. If I had not been in search of any new sight to be seen, it would never have grasped my attention. I thought to follow after it but first dared to ask aloud what it was I would be pursuing.

"Voice," I pleaded into the fog, "is this the source of you that I aim to follow now?"

Again there was silence. What choice did I have but to at least wander with a goal now in mind?

Am I mad or simply lost in this strange word? Where was I before I came to this strange place? Could this strange place have come to me? I suppose this may have always been the truth.

I continued on. As I made my way closer to whatever it was my steps began to lighten to how they were before and I reassured myself with that.

And what of the Voice? The Voice knows more then it says without a doubt. Can this Voice be trusted? How can I know what truths it speaks if my whole world was hidden as a lie that I failed to see?

It felt as though hours had gone by and there did not appear to be any progress to show for my efforts. Whatever this foreign fog was, it was by no means of a natural cause.

Hours... Hours? Can it have been hours? How now do I have the means to know what span of time has passed? Simply I do not. It is clear to see as well that no light from stars or passing sun has pierced this ominous fog.

“Voice!” I pleaded out. “How am I to know what length of time this journey has taken thus far?”

I had little belief that any words would be shared back in answer for I had been ignored before. Then, and to my surprise, there was no hesitation in the Voice’s response.

“Before this point you could not know. Not for the fact that you had not permission, but for the reason that there was no reason to tell.”

“What do you mean by this Words? Do not wait to tell!” I exclaimed. “Answer me now!”

“In this place no time may pass until one knows it to. Many wander here and get themselves nowhere in the end. One may not make progress to anywhere before they know themselves to be moving on ahead. This in turn cannot be known without the reassurance of time gone by. Before you had ignored it and now that you acknowledge it for what it is, time may flow once more for you. Now carry on your way.”

The diligence in the answer had taken me aback. Clearly in my wonder I stumbled upon something of importance relating to this strange realm.

How can this place possible be as it is? By what means can time be ignored? Though strange are these words, stranger still is this place I find myself… How many more wonders am I to encounter?

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