Viktor is Kind of a Douchebag (E)

http://i.imgur.com/nwmub.jpg
I̴̛͟͝ ̵͏̡̢A͘͜M̶̷̕͠ ̡T̛̛͢H̴̕E̶͘ ̵̀͘͡͏K̢͜͢͟͡I̴̕͘Ņ̕҉G̵̛ ̢͡͞I̷̡̧͏Ǹ͠ ̡͘͏Y͏͏͡É̵L̶̶̨L͞Ó̸̧͟҉W̢̨͟͝.̵̸̕͝
̴̶̪̝̺̩̦̱̼̲̹̤̘͔̱̖̪̲̮͟͢͠Í̢̧̘͚̞͈̙̰͎̪͙͖̩͜/͏̤̱̺͚́͟W̹͉̦͖̱̲͚̥̞̘̳͟͠͞͠Ḛ̡̛̳̹̣̼̲̞͍͉̞̼̩̖͉̕ͅ/̵̗̗͉̳̪͝I̢̛̥̝̯͕̬̞̳͚͎̺T̛̝͈̯͇͔̕͞ ̵̵̲̻͔͇̩̙͘͘A̶̡͉͖̹͎͈̹̖̻̼̘̗̦̥͍͖̜̻͟M͏̧̲̥̱̗̰͖͚̠͍͇̼̖̺́͞ͅ ̫̻ͅ/̛̣̩͔͕̥̠͝A̢̟͉̫͖̜̱̮͕̻͉̹͖̺̙̘̪̠ͅͅŖ̧̢̨̫̺͔̗̞̜̝̻͖͢E̶̢͏͘͢ ͎̠͇̪͚̙͍̻̭͎͔͎̙͔̝̯̰͈ ̡̬̝̺͖̤̹̻̰͖̱̗͝ͅͅT̢̡̹̝̻͎͇̘̫̘̣͍̲̦̜̠̭̱̼̦̝̀͡͠H̞̙̥̞̜͟͜E̛ ҉̙̥̣̦̟͇͍̟͕̖̻̘̠̼̪͈ ̢̹̹̙̗̘̫͔͙̠͖̞̖̫̰͎̲̩̪͝ͅT̴̢̳̦̱͉́͞ͅR̀͏̷̴̨͚̭̻̠̲̱̝̙̰̼͎̟ͅ Ù̶̷̧̞̪̟͕̳̭̱͙͖͇̞̘̲T̷̲̞̟̲̞̩̝̼̀͟͜H̶̥͇̜̭͕̫̻̜̺̼̩̰̝͖̮̤͢ ̖̣,̛̼͙͙̤̞̳̤̖̫͈͞ ̶̭̯̳̠͚̣̹̞͖̞̣́͟I̡̧͞҉̣̪͈͈̤͚͉̺̲̯̗̥̞̦̹̱̕ͅŚ̮͔͉ͅM͎̲̫̟͠͠ ̻̜̳͕̜͎̟̺ͅÀ̷̷̪̟̗̪͞T̵̩̮͕̠̫͇̼̳͖̕ ҉̶̴̛̪̺̞͇̣̫̗̹̠͔̳̘̭͝M̴͏̣̝͇͎̹͎̫̠͕͓A̡̧͖̲̝̤͕̕K҉̨͠҉͍͎̼̰̲ ̪̖̫̭͙̪͖Ą̰͓̜̹̫̗͍̦̀A̵̴̵̛̬͙̯̜͇̝̫͈̙͈͇̦̼̞͜ͅR̨̠͍̖̩͕̟̤̭͟ ̮̲̫I̸̳̖͇͉͕͎̕͠Ḿ̶̧̨̜͍͍̠.͓̫͎̼̯͚̳̺̪͖̕͠

Ode writhed, limbs moving to dances never forgotten, never learned. The flesh remembers. Her arms whirled about desperate for any feeling other than the endless torment of being alone (but you're not alone you're not, It is here It is always here It sees It dreams It knows) as she moved, thoughts flitted through her mind and screamed out of her mouth.

"Whathowwhowhenwhy

WHAT
WHAT
WHAT
?
DO I WANT TO KNOW? (no
no
no) but-!
I
must
ask"

WHAT
ARE
YOU?"

http://i.imgur.com/tCFEW.jpg
I̐̿͑ͬ̓̏̈̆͊̓̑̓ͬ̅̅͒̄̽ͭ̕͟ ͭ́̑ͧ̽̂ͮ̅̉͗͆̊̈͠Ą̷̶̢̀̃̾̓͟M̢ͣ̃͛ͨ́͝ ̽̽̎̂͐̓̈́́͊͋̓̇ͬ̀͟҉T̨̧̛͒ͦ͌̄̾͂̐̓ͣͤ͆͛̈́̑̍̒̾̌̚H͑̂ͥ̍̒͆ͯ͋̃̈́ ͤ́̀̚͜E̸͆ͨ̓̈̈́̈́̋̅̃̚͟҉ ̸̡̊ͩ͌̐͆ͨ̎̿̓͢N̛͑̆͒͋ͤͪ͗ͮ̋̓̎ͩ̒̀I̵̛̾͌ͨ́̿̆ͭ̿̔̅̇ͫ͂͞͡͝G͒̾ ̢̛̀̓ͧ͊͒̒́̈́͂ͣͥͫ͐͆ͧ̉̚H̵̡̛̋ͩ͋ͮͨ̀͡Tͯ̓͑̈̓́͠ ̒ͥ̈́ͪͤͭ̓̔̒̂̆ͥ́͘͡͏Aͭ̀̽̇ͭ̾ͭ͏̵͡N̶̨̾̓̽̊ͬ̒̌̒͒Ď̓̅ͤ͑̽ͦ̓̈́̚ ̷̨̐ͥ ̵̡̨̀̉ͥ͒T̏̓ͮ̆̒ͪͯ͛͐́̊ͥ̃̐̅̿͂́͘͢H̸̡͒ͥ̂̌̾̄ͪ̊͗͑ͯ̇̔̇̅̆ͮ͑ͥ ͡E̸͗̏̓ ͌̾͊̐҉̶V̵̨ͭ̽͆̈̓̄͐ͩ̏̒ͮͥ̿͛͟O̷̿͆̓̅ͦ̓̀İͦ̊ͭ̈́̾ͧ̓̂̿̒̋̇ͣ́̚ ̷́̀̕Dͥ̂̿͑̍͏͠
̀͟҉͘Ą̸N̶͜D̨҉̕͟ ̧̛͘T̸͟͏͏H͏͘͝͡E̴ ̸̴͞Ȩ͜͠M̵͟͞͏͟P̢͞T͘͘I͟҉̀N̷͢͢͠͠É͠͡S͘͏̢͘͞ ̶̧͡A͘N̨͢D̷͜͟͞ ̴̧͜҉̛T̸́͠H͜҉̧E̸͠҉͡ ̢͟S͏͏O̸͟R͜͝R̛̕O̢͘͢҉̀W̧̕
̛͞͞A̶̢͟͞N҉̷͠D̡̛̀́ ̶̧͘͏T̵̵̢͠͞H̀̕͢͞E̷͏̨ ͟҉͡҉҉H̷̴̡͟͢O̴̴̡̧͞Ŗ͞͞Ŕ̶͜͞O̸͘͞R̛͟ ̡̀̕A̴͜͝N̴͠D͘̕҉ ̵̸̡҉͘T̷H̢̡͝E̛̕͢ ̶͠Ų͘͏Ņ̵́R҉̧̡̧̕Ę̸̨Ą̛S͏̴̢͝Ó̧͘͘N̡͝
̢̛͝͠A̢̛͢͠N̨҉̨͢D͢҉̴̨́ ͏͘͢T̷͘H̴͢E̸̴̵͜ ̶̨͝L̛O̴͟͞N̴̢͘͘̕É̴͝͠͠L̸̷I̷̛͡N͠͞҉E̶̵͏͘S̨͡҉̕͠S̡͢ ̨͡ ̡͠
A̵͏N̶̶͟͢͢D̸͜͜ ̵̵͟͜T͡͝͏Ḩ̸́̀E̸͜͟͞ ̡̛S͢H̢͞͞A̵̴͘Ḑ̷͘O̧̢͘͢҉W̴͡ ̨̀Ţ͟͟͝H͏̨͘͝A̧̛Ţ̛͘̕̕ ̀҉̴͜҉L̵͞I͜F҉̵͞E̷͘҉̵̢ ̷̡̢͞͡C̶̀͘҉̀A͡͡S̛͘T҉̵͡S҉̀͘͠͡.̴̢
̀͏҉͞
̷̵̧̢͞Í҉ ̡͟͟͝͞A̴͟Ḿ̢̢͢͝ ̀̕Ţ̀̕͡H͢҉È ̡͟͝͝C̵̵̢͢͢Ŕ̷̛Ą̀W̶̧L̶̵͞Ì͘͜͠Ǹ̡͜͜Ģ̴͏́ ̧̨͘͢͝C͏́H́͠À̸Ò̵͘͢S̸.҉̵
̛͟͝I̸̵̢̢/̵̴͘҉W̶̕͢͠͠E̷͟͏̢̀/̧͞͡I͟҉҉T̸͞͠ ̛͏͢͜À̵̢͟M̴̢͞/͏̷̸̢Ą̷̀͞͡R҉̸E̶͝͝ ̸̡͜T̨́H̸̸҉̶É͝ ̛T̶̀́̀͡R̡̨͜U̡̧͜͞T̨̀́H̵͞͠.̷̛҉
̵̷̀̕͢
͝͞͠A̵͝N̸̢D̶̀̕͢ ͠I̢̕͟ ̵̶̴͠S̡͜͟E̶̸E͘͘ ̷̴́͡Y͞͏͝͡O̸̵̢Ù́͝.͞͝҉̴
̨͝Į͟͢͡ ̵̨͢Ş͘ĘȨ̶ ̨͞͏Y̢͝Ò̶͠U̵͘͠ ͏͏N̕͞H̵̨͞A͟T҉͏̴ ̷̛͟B̵́͝͡H̵̶̢͟͜Á̢̢̛͘Ŗ̶͜͢͝Á̧S͘҉ ͘͝Ḑ́U͜͢R̸̴̸҉Ŕ̷͘͝.̨͡
̸͠A̶̸̕͏N҉̡̧͢D̨̕ ̕͡I̧̧̕͟͝T̴̸ ̵̵̧̀W̷̛͏̧Í͡Ļ̡͢͜͞L̴̨̛̕͠ ̶̵̨̡͝Ǹ̷E͏̡͟͢V̷̛E̵̡̧̛͟R̀͜͡ ̴̷̡̨͢E͜͜N͟͟҉̨͢D̨͡͏͜͞.̷̢
E̸̴̵̡͢V̴̢͝É̡͝Ŗ҉͘

"WHAT
WHAT
what
what do you want
from
me?"

Y̵̵̡͐͆͌̅͂ͤ͐͗ͫ̚͘̕Ǫͯ̔͊̈́́̏̎͋̀̈́̉ͬ̐́͑̇̿͢͡Ů͒ͯ̐ͦ̽̾̄̅ͩ̉͆ ̂́́̕͠͡҉ ̂̂ͨͫ͒̈́̍͌̋͌͑ͤͪ̉̾͜҉͝A̛̿̉̃ͣ̎̀ͪ̂͐̓̃̀̿͝L̷̨̍ͨ̄̓́ͣͨͦ̊̄̎ͤR ̡̇ͣ̍̋͊̿̇ͩ̈̒ͤͣ͗ͪ̈͘͝҉͘Eͯ̊͗̀̀͢͟͞Ą̧̆̒ͧ̄ͯ͞D̷̢̃͋̃̋̿́̽ͮͨ ̸̢͜Y̡̢̡͆̆̓̐̋ͮ͐͊̅͌ͣͦ͂ͩ̓̽ͦͭ͝ ̶̷ͨ̃̾͗̇̉ͮͭͯ̈̈́ͦ̑̚͘K̸̆̐̐ͯ̈̇̌̓̍͛̄͊̑̀̎͝N̑̓ͪ̋̑̾͒ͯ̈̾͊ͫ̚҉ ̛Oͭ̇͌ͯ̿̉̍̈́̄ͬ̌̄ͯ̊ͬ͟͞W̑̐ͮ͑ͭ̇͛̃ͧ͊̓́.̸ͤͣ̋̀ͫ̽̈́̄͌̃̄ͥ͒͋̆͠ ̴̛͡
L͞͏͞O҉͘͏O͘҉̸͟K̴̢̕͢͡ ̀͏A͜T̴̷̵̨ ̡̕͟͠͠Ḿ̷̨̕E͠͏̵̧͝/̸͝͡Y̕͝O͡͏U̵͜͞͞/̶̵́̕͠Í̴̛͞T̢̡/̛͞U̧͟S҉̧̨͘

Ode couldn't look at It. Couldn't. Never. Never, never, never. Couldn't face It. If she looked at It, she would die. No. Not really. But Worse. Much Worse. She knew. Somehow. The Worst Thing. Can't look at It.

H̵̷̡ͦ̔ͥ͊̈͂̎̌̽̆̃̓ͩ̚̚̕͝Ǘ̽̂̉̄̈́ͬͩ́̔̕͝͝͝R͒̄̀̌̍̍͌̌͊ͩ̅͌ͦ ̵̢̛̽͟͞T̛͗ͥ̈́ͯ̎ͭ̇͐͆ͩͫ͑ͤ̅̅́͢͢͞.̷̽̇͛̌̉̂ͤ̉̚
I͘͠͠҉̛T҉̢͘ ̵̧̨̧Ì̷̛͘S̶̡͡ ͏̡̢̛͜A̸͠͠͠͏L̶̢̢̀͢L̀͏ ̷̵҉̷̀P҉̀̀͡͡O̴I̴̢͢Ņ̵́͜T̢͟҉͏L̶̴̢͢͟Ȩ̨͟S͘҉̨͜S̢̕͏̷.̴͞ ̧̀͜
̵͞S̨̡O̕͠͞͡ ̕͟V̷͠͠Ę̴̛̕Ŗ́͟͞Y̶̡̡͟͡ ͠҉̛̕P̧̢͘͘Ò̶̡͟Ì̢͢͠N̶̷̴̢͡Ţ̶͟͝L͜͝È̕S̛̕͝Ś.͏̷
̨̢̛̀͞
̸̴́͟͡N͞O̕̕͠T̴̨͜҉̷H̶̢̡̢́Ì̕N̡͟G̀̀͏ ̡̀͡͞M̵͘͘͘͠A͞͠T͏̢͘T̷́͟͝Ę̕͏R̛S̢̧͢.͟͞
̨̨͟͜N͘͘O̧̢͘͢͠T̸̛́҉̨Ḩ̧I̧͢N̢̛̕̕͢G̸̢͘ ̢̛̀I̡͜͠͡S̴̡ ҉̀͞͡R̨͘͢͏̨E͞͏̡̛͘Á̢̀͘Ĺ̵̡.̷̧͟
̨͡
̧̧͜͝N̷̸͝O̵̕͡͝T҉̧ ͏͞E̶̡̕͝V̴E͞͏͜Ń̕ ̡̛͜͝Y̡͝O̶̴͡͡U̡̕͜,̡͟͠͞ ̢̀͟͟͞Ņ͘H̴̷͠͝À̢͞͏T͢͞ ̛̀͏̛B́̀҉͡H͟A̶̡̨̛͡R̸̷̸̛͝Á̧Ş̷̢͠ ̸̶̢͡D̷̸͠Ù҉́Ŕ͘R̵̨͢.̧҉́͘͟
̡̨͢E͏̢̧Ş̸P̸̵̛͟͞Ę̸̡Ć̷I̷̧͝҉Ą̵͢͞L̷͜L҉Ỳ̸̢̛ ̧̨͠͞Y̸͏Ò͢͟͠U̴̢.͜͞

I̷̕͜͠ ̴͘͟͜A҉̷́̕M̵̀̀͝ ̡̨͡C͏̛O͢͠M̵I̸͟N̷̛͜҉̷Ģ̵͝ ҉̷͢͝F͟͜͡͠O͠҉҉̧͜R͏͘͘ ͏͢͝͝Y҉̧̧O̷͞U̶͡,̶̧͡ ̢́N̨H̕͏A̢̨̢͜T̴͏̵ ̵̵̛̀͝B̀͜H҉̨̀A͟͝R̢͡͡͞A̷̡̢͞Ś̡̛͝͝ ͟͜͡D͏̴̀͟U͞R̷̡͞͝͏R̀.̷̛͝
͜͝A̴̸͘͢Ń̷̷͟͠D̕ ҉̛́Y̴̛Ǫ̛́͞Ú̸ ̵̛͡͠͝C̷̕͝͡͡A҉̷̡N҉̡̢͠N҉͏̧Ó̷̴͘T͜͞҉̕ ́͞H̨́̀I͢͞Ḑ̸̶̧Ȩ҉.̵̡́͝͝
͡͡Ą̧́̕͝Ǹ̢͜͠D̡̧͠ ̸̨̛́͝Ý̷O̵̴̢U̵̡ ̷͜͜͡C̴̶̀͟͝À̷̧̀͡N̛҉̷̢N̡̛O̵͟͡Ţ̢͢͡ ̶R̛͞͝Ú̶̧̀͝Ǹ̸.̧͜͝҉
̴́N̷̛͢Ớ͢͠T̀ ̸́F̵̸͢͝R̶͏҉O̧͡͝M̵̵̸͘͟ ̸̨͜͞M̵͟͜Ę̷͞.́͜͟͜
͢͏͏̨N͏̶Ę̡͡V̕E͏̶̨͏̵R̢͟͜͞҉ ҉҉F͟͡͠͞͞R̛͝O̡͘M̷̵̧͜͡ ͞M̕͘͢E͘͜͞.͝͠͏̶͠
͏̶̷̨͢
̧͡͠͏T̶̵̴H͘͢͠I̴̷͟S̸̶̷͜ ̸̕W͏̴̨҉I͝L͞Ĺ̨̛ ̶̨N͢͏̢̧͡E̢҉̴̢́V̡͜͝Ȩ́͜R̴ ̧̀͘͝Ȩ̡̨͘N̶̢̕͘D҉́͜.̴̴̕͡͞
̸̨́͘͡
̧͟͡N̸̶̡͜҉H̛̀À̵͡T̨ ҉̛͢͟B̶̛̕͜͡H̡̧̛̕͝Á̴͢R̡̀͘̕À͘͢͢͠Ś̷͝ ̷̧͡D̵̴U͘҉͏R̸̵͟R̀҉̀͢͠,҉̶
҉̴͜Ì̡͝ ̕҉̡͠S̛͘͜Ȩ̸͡È̢́ ̵̕͢͢Ỳ̶̵͠͞Ơ̢Ù͟͜͠.̡͢͡͡

It felt like nothing. It felt like everything. The wheel was turning on and on, blindly, without caring, without purpose. It turned, and the world was burning. It turned again and the world was frozen. It turned and Tahira was alive. It turned and Tahira was dead.

She stared into the darkness that was not darkness. She tried to cover her face with her eyes, but her hands were not hands and her eyes were not eyes. There was only the abyss and the cosmic wheel, spinning on and on and on, destroying and creating without regard. There was nothing to touch or fight against. She was nothing but what she fought. What she fought was nothing but her. There was nothing to fight. There was everything to fight. She was not she not I not even we or me or ego.

The voice in the dark called out: LEAVE ME ALONE!

http://i.imgur.com/tXR5x.jpg
Y̸̛ͩͮ̒́̀̀ͫͮ͑ͤ̀̈́̆̓ͥ̈́́O̴̅ͬ͌ͭ̀ͤ̓̾̓ͨ̇̔ͨ̓̚̚̚͜͞U͆̒̏̆̉ͫ͆͋ ̶̶̡̡̢́͒̽̆̑́ͣ̾̔ ̶̵̂̍̐̂̀͜͞Ā̷̵ͧ̇͛̏̈́ͮͨͮ͊͑͂ͥ͗ͯ̽̔͘͜R͗̆ͩ̂̄̋́̕͝E͋ͪ̂̐̉͐̈̃ ̈́ͪ̇͐̿ͨ̿͋͂͋̈́͘͟ ̛͂͛ͨ̀ͣ͋͋̅̎͏A̋̾̿͊̆̆̊̆͐̽̀͡L̨̨̐̓ͧ́ͧ́̀͜Ō̴̒̈́̽͞N̑̒ͨ̑ͪ͊̚ ̴̨̢͋̾ͯ̇͛̌͗͘͡E̸̋̽ͧ̑ͯ̌͒ͮ̍̇ͬ̈͞.̸̷ͨ̇̓̋̿̚
Ş̷̨͏Ó͠҉̶̧ ̶́͘͠A̵͢͟͝͝L͠͏͘̕͜O̸̕N̕͢È͏̕͞
̀̕S̛͞͠O͏̸̵̛ ̧͡͏̀͏A̵̴̵̴̢L̨̛͞͝O̴̶̸͟͡N̶̛E͞ ̷̕͠͡͝Ǹ͞O̢̡͏T̵̛̛́͘H̶̵͜͜͞I̸̢͘͘͜N̵̸̵̡͞G̡̛͞ ̴̀̕E͢͢X̶̵̴͘I̡S̶̨̧̕T̨̕S̡͡͏̢͟ ̧͢͡͝Ę̵V̸̡͜͏͝Ȩ̛͘͟͜Ņ́͡ ҉̵͜͡
̷̨̀͟Ń҉Ơ҉T̀̕͞͡ ͏̡́͜҉E̢V̷Ę̶̨N͏ ̷̛̛̀͢Ỳ̀͘̕͟O̴̧͢͞͡U̴̧
̵̨͝È̷͘͡S̵̢̛͢P͢͏E̛҉̨͡C͡͡I̴͜͠A̴̕͠L̵̡L̡̧̕҉̨Y̶͞ ̷̛͢͟͜Y̸̨͢͢͞Ó̸̴̡̕U̢̧̡
͢
̧͞͏̛̕T͏̵H̵̢̛͟͠Į̵S̨͟͏͏̨ ̷͝ẂI̸͝͡L̴͜͜͡͡L̸̢̕͝ ̶͜͢͏͜N̶͡E͜V̶̵̀͘E͠͞R̴̡̢ ̡͠E̵̡N̵͏̨́͝D̶̶̀͢͠.̵͏͜͜

'it' was 'it' no more
'it' is not, 'is' is not
tahira not 'is' no 'it' or 'is' for tahira
death is 'is', here 'is' is dead
that is 'is' is not
∄ ∃

"What do you want, prophet of paradise?" A voice rung true.

A great many voices rang true, several more in falsehood, and thousands yet in blind anguish and rage. Ismat's mind existed in this place like a two dimensional diagram, fulfilling all the possible outcomes that her psyche was capable of at the same time. Upon perceiving this herself, -upon looking into her own mind-, the links exploded and fractured rapidly with unstable, illogical thoughts and decisions both about to be and already made. Some of the lines simply ended, and within those all thoughts ceased. But there was one, yes, one that still rung true, surviving each split and continuing a upon a new lineage in turn.

"What do you want from me?" The striving reaction questioned, an unknowing clone or fragment that had chosen not to look upon itself as yet. "Why am I here?"

Before the sentence even finished, the ego split down the middle and became one that perceived itself and was destroyed, and one that did not, and thus survived as yet.

Y̷̢̨̛͠Ǫ̢̧̢U̧͝͏̧ ̡͟҉Á̸͝͡R̢͘E̶̸̢͘̕ ͢͝҉̶P̵͜R̵̵̛͞E̴͜͝M̷͜͟A͜҉Ţ̴̸̨U̵̶R̶̴Ę́͜͜͢,̕͠͝ ̵̧͢I̴̛͜҉̨S͜͟M̀͡҉A͏̴͟T́͠ ̨̀͝M̧̛Á̡͢͞͡K̷̨̕͜͞A̕͝À͢Ŕ͟͝͞I̸͜͠M̸͞.̧̛́
̶͡
̛I̵̛͝/́W̸̸̨͘E̷̴̵̵͡/̷̸̧҉҉Ì҉T̵̸̨ ̶̛̛͟À̛͡R̀͝E̵̷ ̸̡͢N͏͟͟O҉͘͞T͢͡ ͠͝Y̡̕Ȩ̛́͜T̡͞ ̷̷͜͜W̷̧̛̛H̷́Ǫ͟L̷̸͟E̷̢̡.͢͠
̡҉͟T͏̴́H̨͘͡E̵̛͏̛ ͠Ơ̵͜͜͞N̶̸̡͡E̷̢̢͘҉ ͘͜͠Ẁ̶͞H̡́͢Ǫ̶̛͟ ̷̀͠Į͟͠S͏̛ ̴̷̛́Ţ̸̷̶͜W̢̕Ờ
́́́͡W̢͟͜͠H͢Ò̡ ̡́͝A̷̡Ŕ̨͘͏̶E̷͜͠͠ ̛͡͝F͠҉̵͟I͏҉̸V͜͡͡E̵̕
Ẁ́͡͠H̛҉̸͏Ơ̢̧͘ ̵͢Ą̸͘R̷̵̸͘͞E̶̷̵ ̡҉͢M̵͘A̵̴͘͝N̵͡҉Ý̢̛͞
̵͜Į̕͟S̕͜͞͠ ̕͟͠͞͝S̵̨̡͜T̴̢͠I͡͏̡̡͟L̴͘͝L͏̵ ̴̸̨͟T̨̡̨͟͠W̡͜҉͝O̵̵͟.͏.

S̴̶͏̰͔̖̦̪̱̫̱͚̼̕Ơ̵̼̙̫͈̮̜̮͙̘̹̫͕̣̘͖͖̻̗͢O̧̡̞̳̗̕ͅͅN͏̬͝ ̦̲̼̟̞.̸̢̲̘̣̻̮͈͕̹̹̺̖͔̀

***

Tahira found herself in a vast and open stretch of sand. Everything seemed normal.
Except not.
It was off. Somehow. Something was off. It felt like a dream. Was she dreaming?

And there were people. Tahira couldn't make them out no matter how hard she tried. Maybe if she got closer? Yes. That would probably help. Get up close. Tap one on the shoulder. Yes.