Father

[Cipriano Adimari]

"Finally."

The warm breeze touched his skin; the rising sun colored the distant clouds a bright orange. His reward. At last.

This time, it had seemed like Father would never stop. Cipriano's mind twisted and turned as He looked for answers.

The answers to what?

This was not the time to stress his mind even more, however. His reward was waiting. He stepped forward. The water brushed against his feet. It was cold, but comforting.

He breathed in the ocean air and closed his eyes. His mind was at peace, for however long it would last. The breaks were never long. Father's sessions, on the other hand, always seemed to last an eternity.

Life had not always been like this. There were memories hidden deep within his own mind. Sealed away. Father always interfered if he tried to see them. Once, he succeeded. He saw bits and pieces. Fields of softly flowing orange grass. The pinkish hues of distant nebulae.

He gazed into the distance. Calm waters, lit by the stars. Rolling hills.

But no exit.

[Cipriano Adimari]

The ocean was getting restless.
Father was getting restless.

The pattern always repeated itself. The images, thoughts, feelings, all following one another too rapidly for his mind to keep up.
Then, a brief moment of peace to let his mind recover. Too brief.

The inevitable end of this moment of tranquility was nearing. The mountains rumbled. The subtle breeze gave way to a growling storm. The ocean spiraled upward toward the sky. The sky that was once covered in stars, but was now a black void.

The world around him was tearing itself apart.

As often as he had experienced what was to come, Cipriano would never get used to it. He braced himself, although he knew that it was pointless. He held no influence in this world.

The light of the only remaining star faded away. Only darkness remained to keep him company.

[Cipriano Adimari]

This time was different.

This time, there was only one image. An image unlike any he had seen before.
No. Not one image. A sequence of images. Similar images. The blue, organic matter was moving. Pulsating.

Cipriano tried to concentrate, to focus on the images, but his eyes were uncooperative. He tried to reach out and touch the surface, but his arms would not move.

Then, he felt the pain. Agonizing pain, centered at his stomach, stretching out to every limb. What worried him most, however, was how real the pain felt.

There was always something off about the world he lived in. Something wrong. Details were lacking. It was artificial.

But this pain was not. This pain was unbearably real.

He had never been relieved to hear Father's voice, until now. Until he heard Him, speaking louder and clearer than ever before:

"Rest."