In films, when you bring back people from the dead, they are always more powerful, like a phoenix rising from its own ashes. They never come back wrong. But that’s the way Joy feels most of the time, like a screw inside her head has come loose. She wouldn’t call herself insane , but sometimes that’s exactly what she thinks she is.
This story deals with the emotional aftermath of being brought back to life.
Fair warning: the writing style here for the first few chapters is intentionally wierd and esoterical, with a blatant disregard for writing rules and conventions.
Title taken from Fragment 33 by Sappho tr. Julia Dubnoff
It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.
The Wild Iris Poem by Luise Gluck.
She opens her eyes, and she sees…. pitch black , as far and wide as her vision allows.
Darkness is the first word that comes to mind. A beast, It moves all around her, as if it were alive, moving in waves of different shades of black, all encompassing, breathing.
She waits for the darkness to disappear.
It doesn’t.