Time doesn't really flow here. In fact, I'm not even sure time "exists" in this place. The sun never sets. It just hangs there, frozen high above me like an unblinking eye—watching, mocking. I swear its laughing at me. I have no idea how long I've been walking for—hours, days, weeks? Theres no way to tell.
My body doesn't ache. I haven't felt hunger once. Come to think of it...
What does hunger even feel like?
Sanity? Thats the last thing on my mind. How could it not be, in a world like this? Nothing here is alive. Not the air, not the light, not the trees or rivers. Everything around me is hollow, stripped of meaning. And me? I can't even remember my own name, where I'm from, or who I am. But honestly—Is that really such a bad thing?
Theres a strange kind of peace in the forgetting. No past, no expectation that you're forced to live up to. The only thing is this silver road leading me endlessly throughout this vacant world.
After realizing I felt no hunger—and that my body never seemed to tire, no matter how far I walked—I began to lose sight of why I started moving in the first place.
At first, I wandered with a purpose, hoping to find something in this vast emptiness that could stir the stillness, spark some trace of life in this place. A sign of motion. Of meaning. But now... I'm not so sure that it even matters anymore.
The longer I travel, the more that yearning seems to fade. Like everything else in this colorless world, its slowly being stripped away.
It's not that I wouldn't be excited to find something, but over time, I've come to an understanding with the silence. It's no longer oppressive. It's surprisingly quite peaceful. With no memories of the past to drag behind me, all I have are the thoughts in front of me, quietly urging me forward.
I haven't felt fatigue once. My body doesn't ache. It doesn't crave food or water, all of it is null. At first it was unsettling—this weightless existence—but eventually, it all became normal. Familiar. Almost as if I've somehow merged with the void itself—just another part of the silence.
The only thing left to do is continue following the silver serpent of a river, winding endlessly through this hollow land, and see what lies on the other side.
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205,927
205,928
205,929
205,930
205,931...
There's not much to do here. I've taken to counting my steps as I follow the river, just to keep some sense of movement—some rhythm to guide me.
Oddly enough, the views are starting to grow on me. What once felt lifeless and repetitive has become strangely beautiful. The stillness has a kind of grace to it.
Every so often, I'll come across a clearing where the trees part just enough to offer a wider view of my surroundings. But the sight beyond is always the same—more silver-threaded rivers winding through the earth, more towering trees, and those distant, null mountains standing still against the gray horizon. Empty. Vast. Unchanging. Beautiful.
Just in view, I see the river that I have been following for over 200,000 steps, is splitting in two. One path continues straight, unwavering, while the other veers sneakily to the right.
My body slowed as I approached the divide, my steps uncertain for the first time in what felt like forever. I turned my head slowly, toward the right. There—another break in the trees.
Through the narrow opening, I caught sight of something that made me stop completely. A mountain—massive, solitary—rising in the distance like a monument to silence itself. It stood apart from the others, towering high above the forest, completely and utterly alone.
The trees around me seemed to lean back, framing it like they knew it didn't belong to this world, or maybe belonged more than anything else here.
Even then, something stirred in me. Not hope. Not fear. Just a quiet, wordless pull. As if, without knowing it. I had been walking toward this mountain all along.