Echoes, they’re all around us. Even if you’re not in some deep, dark cavern, they are in fact there. Every time you scream, every time you talk, make a sound even, the echo, the afterimage is there. It takes time to realize, but you can see them, see them. Feel them. It could be a blessing, or a curse, but I see them, I feel them, I hear them. Not only my echoes, but those of everyone, even those long gone by now.

How would you react if the screams of Auschwitz were in your dreams? The whispers of the insane? The rallying cries of cults? The last words of your dying loved ones, always there, always echoing?

Help me, I can’t take this anymore, they’re no longer echoes, they are pulling at me, telling me things, screaming at me. They don’t stop.