Yeah, I’m not ripping off clothes and taking pics, but this is an HNT of sorts: it’s a baring of my inner mind. In a way far more vulnerable than my unclothed body.
My neck is screaming. Eyes, straining as the muscles in control threaten to give in to uncontrollable spasms. But I can only stumble blindly forward, face tilted to the heavens (hells?) in search of guidance—any sign, any hint, any hope.
Clouds swirl like clutching vines around my weary feet as the dull brick walls, twisting and turning, hover just out of reach above me—no solid path to follow, just stubborn perseverance and exhausted automation.
Suddenly, from nowhere, the mist coalesces and I stumble, falling to my knees in the skies then rolling, defeated, to my back: the condemned soldier. My head lolls from side to side and my breath pitches forward in humble mimicry of body’s fall. Horror, sheer and raw, threatens to overpower me, reducing my will to nothing more than the mewling of a starving kitten as it chases the ever-retreating teat.