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Tickle

Updated on May 8, 2015

It starts with a tickle.
An inkling.
A thought.
And it grows, inflates like a bubble.
You hold your breath and the bubble grows bigger.
And then it pops, and an idea is born.
Like a pinball, it bounces around your brain, rocking against your skull.
The pinball picks up momentum and it makes you dizzy.
Soon you have to address the pinball, before it turns into a time-bomb.
There are no numbers but you feel the timer counting down.
As the seconds pass, you get lost in the timer and begin to wonder if there ever was a time outside the timer.
Soon you realize time is almost up, and you start desperately searching for answers.
Suddenly there are more answers than questions and the solutions become your biggest problem.
You're trapped in a hallway with far too many doors to count, and you know that if you just found the right door, you'd be okay.
So you start down the hallway.
At first, you're tentatively testing every doorknob before opening.
Before long, your heart starts to race and you're flinging every door open.
Moments pass and you're kicking doors down, desperately searching, clinging to the truth of an idea.
Then you find the right door.
You don't know how you know it's the right door, but suddenly, you've got all the time in the world.
You open it, and there it is.
The cold, ugly truth.
Wheezing and coughing in the corner, the satisfaction of being right sinks into a sickly sensation of sadness.
All the air escapes from your mouth and your shoulders start to shake.
Gravity lassos you, forcing you to your knees, and you're alone.
What started as a tickle is now a growing darkness, laughing, expanding, and taking up every inch of the room around you.
The light fades into a flickering spark and the world grows cold and wet around you.
In a desperate attempt to unknow the truth, you reach back for the door but it's gone.
You're alone.
You.
The Darkness.
And the tickle.

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