Day Eight.
I can no longer sit still.
Can you imagine—a normal person, along with seven others (though now it’s just me), huddled in a small circle, the blinding light making it almost impossible to keep our eyes open, unable to sleep at night, with nothing to do.
There’s clearly nothing blocking the circle or stopping us from stepping out…
Yet an absurd sense of fear binds us tightly, pretentiously doling out a sliver of distance, watching as we pace back and forth, nearly driven mad.
Honestly, I no longer know what fear is.
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Are you afraid of the darkness?
When that black sun rose, everyone was terrified.
It was like ink poured into a pot, bubbling and boiling, then nauseating tentacles of unknown origin emerged from the edges of the pot. That was the sun—disgusting, yet you had to accept that this thing once brought you light and warmth.
Someone seemed to die instantly—I can’t remember clearly, but the blackness swallowed them whole.
We all fled—to where? I don’t know. Like bugs under a bright light, we scurried toward whatever felt opposite. But it was laughable—hiding in dark corners to escape the dark.
Maybe it wasn’t darkness. I think it was far more dangerous than that.
I stayed in the least lit part of my house for a day—all communication with the outside world was cut off, though I’m sure I wasn’t the only one in this situation.
I drew all the curtains and added extra layers. The room became as dark and silent as those last few minutes before sleep, when your eyes are still open.
It wasn’t night, but I imagined the streets outside were already devoid of sound—maybe.
They say that in darkness, human senses other than sight become sharper—including the mind. So I tried to spend the whole day lost in wild thoughts.
It was hard, but I managed.
I pondered the meaning of human existence, then attempted to deconstruct Plato and Socrates with my crude philosophical knowledge. Eventually, bored, I lay on the bed, flipping over to face the floor.
Then I remembered Forrest Gump lying in a pile of officers’ feces for two days to avoid bombing, so I imagined myself in that situation, surrounded by the roar of explosions and the sound of planes overhead.
Honestly, I think the softness of a quilt isn’t too different from feces. Except the scent wafting into my nose was the fresh smell of laundry detergent, not hydrogen sulfide… if I remember correctly what gas feces emit.
And there was no deafening noise to shatter your sanity.
Silence. Only silence.
Then… I don’t remember.
From seven in the morning until midnight, aside from hastily eating a little, I don’t think I did much else.
Maybe I should have tried to escape then… maybe. But it’s too late now.
I carefully pulled back the curtain, hoping that nauseating sun had set.
But no. The black light remained intense, seeping through the tiny gap in the curtains, and I could almost hear it hitting the wall.
Of course—that was probably just my boredom talking.
I closed the curtains again, my heart beginning to race.
Then I looked at the packaging on the table—truth be told, I didn’t feel like eating at all today. I just grabbed something out of habit when the time came. I don’t know why, but the hunger was truly delayed this time.
I lay in bed, trying to sleep—and failed. Thoughts flooded in endlessly, slipping through the cracks in the door, the thin spots in the curtains.
I stared at the vintage alarm clock by the table until nearly five in the morning. Then, uh, astonishingly, someone knocked on the door.
Thud… thud… thud…
I jumped out of bed—but I didn’t know whether to open the door.
A knock at this hour… to call it normal would be lying to myself.
I leaned against the door, wondering how to respond.
At first, I thought it might be a rescue team or something—thank god that day and a half of wild thoughts had sharpened my mind to its peak—but would a rescue team knock so slowly and lightly? At the very least, there’d be shouts of “Is anyone there?” or something similar.
So I loudly asked who it was. Honestly, I was terrified.
No response.
Then I stayed silent too, pretending I was glued to the door with 502 adhesive.
But in the end, I opened the door.
The knocking continued, slow and rhythmic—*thud… thud… thud…*—each strike almost identical in volume, not loud, but just audible enough. My curiosity spiraled out of control, resonating with this strange rhythm.
Can you imagine… how desperately someone who hadn’t spoken in over a day craved sound and interaction?
I carefully opened the door, avoiding direct exposure to the black light. But what slipped through the gap was something I never expected.
White. Vast expanses of white.
Instinctively, I took it as a sign of safety—maybe it was—and stepped into that white curtain, then everything blurred.
I vaguely remember following a… perhaps a person, walking down a path. Even now, the memory sends chills down my spine. The white light seemed to slice through the shadows cast by the black sun, carving out a white road. But at the time, I barely noticed, my vision dominated by a pale silhouette.
I wondered who that figure was.
A white coat, white pants, black folds in the fabric, and faintly black hair. The small patch of exposed skin on their neck… looked like white paint on a lightbulb, dull and lifeless, as if something was missing.
Like an unpainted sketch leaping off a canvas… a terrible analogy.
That’s all I remember.
Then a sudden pain in my forehead snapped me out of my daze.
Someone had bumped into me—no, I had bumped into someone.
At some point, the white path had narrowed. Just as I was about to fall off, a hand grabbed me.
Honestly, that hand also looked like it had just jumped off a canvas, unfinished.
Then I saw, inside a white circle about five meters in radius, six people standing.
And myself.
Everyone wore the same look of confusion. I suppose I did too.
Everyone in that white circle seemed stripped of color, leaving only black and white.
I didn’t have a mirror, but judging by my hands, I was no different.
We exchanged greetings—if you could call it that—and asked each other questions, getting acquainted.
Everyone’s experiences were basically the same: hiding, knocking, not knowing what happened, then appearing here.
In summary: from a confined space to here. Then confined again.
We realized almost simultaneously that we still weren’t free.
In fact, the space to move was even smaller.
It was like the circle Sun Wukong drew for Tang Sanzang and the others. Except unlike them, no monkey would come to save us, and no White Bone Spirit would come to eat us.
At first, we didn’t mind—at least there were people to talk to. Everyone had a flood of words pent up, like a dam at warning level finally bursting. The once calm stream shattered against the sluice, turning into frothy white foam.
In short, I didn’t understand a word anyone said. And I’m sure it was the same for me.
Seven people—me, Jacob, Joshua, Daniel, Logan, Dylan, Samuel—just… well, I don’t know if anyone was actually listening, but the “conversation” lasted a long time.
Eventually, we all got it out of our systems.
Logan and Joshua had watches, and the times matched. By the time we fully calmed down and assessed the situation, it was 16:26. That’s when we finally looked up at the sky, only to be blinded by the intense light.
A white… sphere? Hovered directly above us. I assumed that was the source of the white circle. Tilting my head slightly, I could see the tentacles of the black sun.
What to say? Whatever it was, staying under this white curtain seemed safe… probably.
Then I asked the others what they had brought, and all six of us started emptying our pockets.
Dylan had a pen clipped to his shirt pocket. Logan and Joshua had watches. Everyone pulled out a set of keys and some access cards—none of which would be of much use to us.
No one had a phone or anything like that. I guess we’d all tried using them at some point but ended up tossing them aside.
Was there anything else? Probably not. No one smoked.
A few coins and a stack of bills… well, I split the bills in half to use for writing.
We took stock… not that there was much to count. Then we started talking again. This time, it was an actual back-and-forth conversation, and the topics became clearer—hometowns, pasts, literature, theories. I even got into a discussion with Jacob about theology, like the Bible, and tried using it to explain the thing above us.
Did it help? What do you think?
The conversation lasted 21 hours and 13 minutes. Honestly, the seven of us must have talked about everything and everyone until we ran out of words.
Then silence again.
Samuel asked, “Is anyone hungry?”
We looked at him, then silence.
The hunger was delayed by a full three days. So was exhaustion.
I didn’t have anything else to say, so I started playing with the coins on the ground.
The others followed suit.
I wouldn’t call it the most entertaining activity… but at least the ground was flat.
Later, one of the coins flew out of the white circle and landed in the black light. It still glowed white, standing out starkly against the darkness.
By then, we were all pressed against the edge of the circle, too afraid to retrieve it.
Finally, Daniel tentatively reached out, waved his hand in the black light, then stepped out to pick up the coin.
We asked how the black light felt. He said it felt like nothing.
Then Logan suggested leaving. I stopped him—too dangerous.
But it was pointless. After another three mind-numbing hours, Logan said, “I think it’s enough. Don’t stop me.” He left behind anything potentially useful and stepped out of the circle into the black.
The six of us fell silent, watching as Logan left glowing white footprints that slowly faded, rising like smoke before dimming into obscurity.
Right then, I knew Logan was dead.
From the time we arrived, on the third morning at 08:46, we lost our first companion.
What followed was a long silence. I used Dylan’s pen to draw a tic-tac-toe grid on the ground and played with Jacob using access cards.
The other four did the same.
Seventeen hours passed without a word.
Then Joshua stood up and gave us a bitter smile. I already knew what was coming.
“I’m going to find Logan,” he said.
I looked at the remaining four, then back at him, and nodded.
We watched his figure grow smaller in the distance. Dylan waved.
When I turned back, I saw hesitation and the urge to leave in everyone’s eyes.
“I don’t think we should force ourselves.”
I couldn’t take it anymore, so I spoke up.
Then Samuel and Daniel stood. We shook hands and shared brief hugs.
Two more pale figures vanished into the black.
The next two days with me, Jacob, and Dylan passed in a blur.
Our hearts were too heavy for words. Even if we had something to say, it was already understood without speaking.
On the seventh morning at 04:32, Dylan left too.
Before going, he said to Jacob and me, “If possible, die meaningfully. Don’t end up like the rest of us.”
Then he walked out without ceremony.
After that, Jacob and I talked about God and life.
That night, he stood and patted my shoulder.
“Friend, good luck. I think this might be a test, and we missed something.”
Then he walked away, his back to me. I watched him, imagining what he must be feeling.
After about 20 meters, he suddenly turned and shouted my name.
I looked at him.
He spread his arms and lifted his head high, standing like a believer receiving divine grace.
Then, the white on his body… like paper severely weakened by time meeting a strong wind, it turned to dust, vanishing from top to bottom.
Looks like I’ve used up all the bills for writing… though there’s nothing else to say.
Ah, I’ve been writing for three hours. Lying on the ground like this, my elbows would usually be in agony by now…
No, wait, I think I have more to say.
I think I understand what Jacob meant.
We humans, under this nameless white light…
Have lost hunger, pain, desire, and in return, gained beauty and eternity?
Everyone who left had the right to take what was theirs, but they left it behind.
Ah, I see.
But there’s no more room for me to leave these things behind.
What to say? Here’s how I’ll put it.
Am I still alive? Maybe.
But now I understand why heaven is empty.
If God truly exists, may He bestow His precious mercy upon those who survive the calamity.
One Soul
Final Words