Odyssey of a Torn Soul

What happens when I find myself at the brink of the blacks and whites of the past, and the enigma of the future—in the twilight of both? Every nerve in my system shudders as I find myself in a hall of broken reflections, warped senses, and misty illusions. Not a single sense of direction but two black holes at the opposite ends of this hall—the maelstrom of both yesterday and tomorrow, a place to wield me—or perhaps destroy me? Breathing in, breathing out, I count to tame the chaos. Three.

The voices: murmurs and screams, young and old, of the past and the future, all silence at a whim. The violent streaks of moving memories and visions all screech to a halt. The rapid beating of my heart decelerates as if being tamed as my legs find their balance both in time and space.

Two.

Like gazing at a battlefield after a bloody victory, I wait for the glorious feat to dawn and the weight of the loss to pull me down. A whisper from the core of my mind seeps through my thoughts, telling me I cannot leave this combat zone—keeping victory for myself and leaving the loss behind. One.

No one knew that the bang that rattled the cosmos was my war cry for victory after a long battle.