The darkness consumes me like a starved lion. The roar of terrifying silence tears at my mind. I do not run, I do not hide, for it is useless. Running away from this hell is like running down an upward moving escalator. 

The silence is thrown away by my screech of fear. Fear is the only feeling. It flies through me like an endless jet plane. The resounding screech echoed off of the walls. But, is it real?

What does it mean to be... real? Maybe that's why it all feels so empty. There's no telling if any of this is the true reality. I'm not real, you're not real, none of us are real. 

We're simply dolls played with by the mind. The game ends when the mind grows tired. We're close to the end. They are growing too old for the dolls. They will soon stop playing. They will leave us in a torturous, silent, and empty world. 

The screech is fading out. 

It's all gone.