A Tremble is a Shatter for the Weak

Another hour in the lift..

It seemed from the first moment that it was going to be painfully slow.. Quenching melodies for the ears that kept us on the track for a long time..
They call it the elevator tunes these days..
Even in the power outage, this tune kept playing on and on in my mind, accompanying me all along..

But soon, hunger was to take place in the scenario.. The hunger for the revelation of the subliminal plot of this ride.. The lack of vitamins encompassing my body.. an anomaly of the bones..

Another hour in the lift..

Without the numbers, the lift seemed to be on a hopeless trip.. Body started coveting the freemen, delusions started to fill the air.. Tendencies were clearly outlined..

Stated that it was never the much anticipated beginning of ascension, the incline to the misinterpretation of a journey was much more than forgiving.. Thus the body conceived non-existent memories of a sudden past.. That was, a repetitious climax which started to lack effectiveness..

Another hour passed by..

Now the hand was reaching out for something sharp.. To carve the numbers into the elevator.. To actually make believe that we were somewhere other than a point in nothingness.. A destiny, a destination was a necessity..

A sudden rage collapsed onto the body.. Then melancholia became the burden.. Emotion after emotion ravaged the soul and it only left behind stone pillars of mischief..

Another hour slapped the already awake traveler..

In a corner, the traveler sat, recovering from the furious attacks of senses.. It got up, tried to get some fresh air through the lifelong delusions..

Then, unexpectedly, the lift came to a stop.. The music descended into repose... The lights dimmed.. All the emotions were left inept.. Excited was the traveler, excited he was, for he believed that the journey came to an end.. He waited for the grand opening of the doors..

It seemed like hours sealed shut the doors..

Nothing happened... The same setting, the same theme, but a fresh characteristic for the voyager.. Now he was terrified, anxious, panicky.. He didn't know what to do.. He was losing it all in this claustrophobic hell he was trapped into.. He didn't know what was to come, and he didn't know what he had to do..

Hours stirred thoughts in the passenger's mind..

He decided to carve out a window.. "I'll get out of there" he said.. He knew there was no exit.. He knew he was stuck in the middle of something beautiful.. He had to get out and embrace the presence of freedom..

The gust of emotions was the only thing that controlled his body.. No reasoning, no logic.. Now he only depended and fed on the thoughts he conceived for so long.. He dug and scratched and worked for hours until a glimpse of light passed through a small gap on the wall..

He started dancing, jumping up and down... It was only one step ahead.. He knew what to do.. He only had to slam onto the piece he was carving and he would be outside in less than a second..

That's what he did.. He rammed the piece down, and created his window to the soul.. He smelled freedom first.. Then heard the wind.. It was rather faster than he expected.. He felt the breeze; it was making his skin itch.. He felt the cold; he began to shudder and had to curl up.. The best sensation, he left to the very end..

He opened his eyes..
Opened them to an endless depth he was flying over..
He looked around to see the elevator climbing up..
He suddenly felt the wind change..
He suddenly realized his projectile change..
Down was the new up..
He gained speed..
He closed his eyes,
Never to open them again..

The time seemed to rewind it all backwards now..
Yet how it passed mattered no more,
Once the end was crystal clear..