The Ghost of Dulai
By Anonymous
Word around town is that the stars never shine on the grounds of Dulai. Fitting, it seems, that even the ever-growing, ever-gaining universe knows not to venture near the infamous gates of the once beautiful countryside manor. “When God blessed the world, he meant the world excluding Dulai,” the villagers often say. “There is no good in Dulai—not even a breeze. Everything, from the roses to the raindrops, has been made tangible from a deep and ancient evil.” No one who dares to walk the gardens of Dulai Manor ever returns the same. Though they appear to be fine, one look into their eyes can confirm their demise; what once held the glimmer of hope, the glimmer of life, becomes empty. Empty and desolate and dark and pained—the eyes of one who has seen and heard far more than they ever needed to know. The children of the village have known all this about Dulai from the day they were old enough to listen and understand. “Do not go to Dulai. Do not speak of Dulai. Do not so much as look at Dulai.” This is recited like a prayer, like a mantra by which to live one’s life. So, it is impossible for the villagers to understand why you stand so boldly at the entrance of Dulai’s forbidden gates. Impossible to understand how you refrain from flinching when you take your first step onto the starless walkway. At first, their shock is all you can hear, and you are surprised, for you expected something much more exciting to occur when you crossed the border. You continue walking, and as you do, the murmuring voices of the astounded villagers slowly fade, mixing in with the whispers of the wind. Soon there is nothing but darkness and quiet. The trees sway gently to a soft breeze that you cannot feel. No sound is made as they rustle. No sound is made as your feet sink into deep snow. The absence is eerie; shivers run up and down your spine without relent. You pull your coat tightly around your arms, but it is useless against the invasive cold. You feel her before you see her. All of the sudden, you cannot remember the last time you felt happiness. You cannot remember the last time you felt warmth. Inside you, there is a tiny hole growing. At first, it is the size of a pin prick, but you can feel it growing larger. In that hole is nothing; a hole of nothing is growing within you. Dulai is a black hole, you think. Not a forgotten wasteland—a black hole. A black hole that sucks in the light that the world has to offer, and destroys it, because that is the closest thing it has to having light for itself.
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