Where The Dead Live

*Tap. *Tap. *Tap.

The sound of his feet, beating the wet surface of the ground seemed to echo.

The floor was black and endless, as was the sky above his head; that is, if there was even a sky here in the first place. For this void he traveled, was completely empty, yet one could feel a weighty force above their heads like there was a sky, but acted as a heavy crown.

So in a sense, it was like the burden of responsibility, weighing as a feeling upon the shoulders of its victims and also existing physically as what they chose to carry.

Taking a break from his exhausting trek, this void-traveller found a black boulder to sit on. But as his backside met the surface of the glossy rock, he sunk into it, the rock was strangely soft, too soft. The man would have jumped up startled at why the rock felt like that, but it just felt too relaxing, so the slight shock was drowned under the blissful coziness he laid in.

"..."