I used to just smell it. But now… well…
Let me back up.
Our reality is thin. Bending and changing with the unseen pressures of the universe around us; bulging here, dropping there. Like the ocean full of currents and waves, changes in pressure, density, and temperature… an ever moving and dynamic place. You think the nature of dynamism is constrained to our oceans? Nay, it is the Universe. We see it spin. We see the chaos of uncountable interactions occurring from the atomic level all the way to the galactic level. However… we were steeped in it, created by it, we are an evolved creature pulled from the primordial soup by the forces put upon us. So as creatures that are a result of such a system, constrained by the laws that made us, our experience is defined, limited, and set by that system.
We only see what we are evolved to see.
And what do we see? A narrow band of the spectrum. A spectrum that covers a vast amount of visual and sensory information, and we don’t have it. Because that is how we evolved.
Same goes for our other senses as well. Sight is just the first. But touch, smell, taste… all of them are affected. Sometimes I pick up the smell of other things.
It started innocuously at first. I think I was a kid. I smelled something odd. Like someone with synesthesia, who can smell colors, or feel numbers, I felt something entirely elsewhere. My consciousness reacted violently at first, rejecting the horror of whatever was pressing onto it from outside our perceived reality. It rocked me, and I ended up in a coma for a week. 23 people died. In a bus accident.
I tried to explain it. The smell of rotten garbage and primrose, the blurring of atmosphere, the charging of everything like the buzz before the lightening strike… but that didn’t even come close. Everyone told me my “break” was from witnessing the accident. I didn’t want them to think I was lying or worse, crazy. So I accepted it. Every time I smelled it though, something bad happened near me. People died.
The first time it was different was just two weeks ago, I felt the pressure from high above. The world was shifting under the pressure, whatever it was, it was huge. Like a whale starting to break the surface of the water, the nearby surfer just holds on to his board for dear life. I was the proverbial surfer watching the whale surface from underneath me. I saw it.
The eye. The eye. The eye was huge. The size of a football stadium, an eye pressed against the glass of our world, the behemoth, the leviathan pressing their gaze onto our world. Its pupil split in a myriad of different ways, filled with intelligence and lights that my mind could not understand. But did people go running in the streets, screaming? Did traffic stop and everyone stare upwardly in shock and fear? Nope. No one noticed.
The good news is that I didn’t faint. And I didn’t go into a coma either, so I was able to watch the two planes collide overhead. 449 people died. They say bodies rained down for hours after the explosion.
I wish I could say I thought it was God. Or something understandable. But it isn’t. Its horror and death and pain. All I see, and smell, and taste is things that I shouldn’t, and the world suffers whether I am here or not. To whoever reads this… I am standing on the chair, the rope is tied firmly. I hope I die quickly… but know that this was my choice. My computer should save this as the most recent document.
What?
Oh my god. Not again. NOT AGAIN! Why are you here? Now? Why are you looking at me? What… ah… ack… help? Help? I… I… aaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssssssss
mine.
mine.
mine.
mine.
mine.
mine.
mine.
mine.