Amiss

Epilogue

If someone asked me to describe how my adventure was altogether, then I would have to say that I am not as lucky as I was on those ships, that's for sure.

Besides that, after looking back at all that I've said, I realize that I started off this story in a very upbeat tone. I realize that, and I apologize.

I just need to break the ice now: nothing is upbeat anymore, okay?

There are no colorful bubbles around me, no twinkling, no sight of any planets, at least not anymore. I had used to see those distant spheres but now, their gravity is too far away for me to even swim towards, not even a speck to see.

I...

I have no words.

What else can I say? I've been through explosions, heart-pounding moments, practically reversed time over and over again, I've lost all of my friends and hope, my one brother disappeared and the other basically turned insane, my planet, my home, is gone, and now I'm alone. I'm all alone and there is no one to help me!

I mean... it's a lot to take in, to digest.

Maybe I should talk about how I can even explain why O'keal went insane; after all, it was a realization that took a lot of thought process, but I think I've founded a theory.

Trying to put it into my brother's view, he said that we were able to reverse time. Perhaps, when we were redoing time, we were able to see ourselves, watch ourselves, but couldn't do anything to interfere with that reality – almost as if watching our own image repeat our actions. And by the way the two spoke about it, they seem to have watched the "timelines" over and over so many times that they couldn't take it. And then they snapped, I'm guessing.

And then, maybe... Maybe O'keal grew so strong that he was able to disrupt the flow of time! And, by the laws of every story, all insane people only want ultimate power; the voices had gotten to my brother's head.

Damn, that sort of makes me feel pity for O'keal. After all, he didn't plan for anything bad to happen! Buuut, then again, he was the one to initiate those the evil plans...

Oh well. Nothing I can do now, I suppose. It's just a theory, too – one that somehow came up into my mind. I'm just glad that it's all over, at least.

Anyways, I'm currently talking into a voice recorder. At least, I hope so! I've said so many words in this, and I hope I won't have to repeat myself. I don't even know if I'd be able to, at this point.

You know, maybe I am lucky. Perhaps I should feel lucky that I'm alive right now, to watch absolutely nothing, to be able to still breathe and blink and move – but honestly, what's the point? It's not like I'm going to live for much longer after this.

I may have a bunch of snacks in these inner pockets, but it's not an infinite supply. My bones will get weak; I'm going to get frail. I can hear my voice right now – it sounds fragile, and it keeps wobbling.

But even still, talking is really the only thing that's helping me keep my sanity.

It's been weeks since it's all happened. Wait, has it? I can't even tell anymore. After all, there's no sun to rise and fall, or a watch to wind, or a clock to stare at, or a calendar to mark on. I mean, I could try to count the seconds, but I'm not sure if it would even be a productive attempt – space time is always shifting, warping itself, bending.

Besides that, the loneliness out here... It really does change you. Back down on your safe little planet, you could be a little anxious about having to hide in a closet, but up here, where there's just emptiness and silence? It's pain!

Not only does it seem lonely, but it gets to you. I can hear distant ticking and beeping sometimes, my mind is always spinning, thinking about the past, thinking about all of my mistakes and what I've done wrong and what I can't fix. It's like on a marathon, but it's slowly getting tired. It needs to stop and drink some water. I mean, I still have literal bottles of water and a very small amount of snacks, but that's beside the point.

But to think, out there is another new, thriving planet, with lots of organisms and life and peace, and I'm out here, dying in the cold? That's the harshest reality of it all. I can't just float to safety. I'm probably millions and millions of years apart from anything, at this point!

I'm rapidly changing subjects, I'm aware. I know that I said that talking helps me keep not insane, but I don't think that's true, actually. Because it's either the voices in my head or my own voice reflecting theirs that is tainting my personality.

... I sincerely hope, with all of the goodness still left in my heart, that someone will pick this up. Maybe you're flying out in space. Maybe you're an alien, zipping around when you saw my probably-dead corpse, and decided to pick up this voice recorder. Or perhaps, this is a message somehow being transmitted to a planet close enough to be in range. Can you even understand my voice? Do you speak my language? Is- is everything going to be okay?

Gosh, I hope that everything will be okay. But I don't think things will end well for me.

I... I suppose that I should stop now. I have been talking for quite some time, after all – I don't want the battery to die. Somebody else might use it, for all I care.

Okay, okay.

Heh, there's actual instructions on here for how to start up and stop recording. As in, talking, to specify. Or voicing. Whatever I'm meaning to say.

My name is Faith, and I... I suppose this is a dead S.O.S signal. Let's be honest: no one is ever going to find this – I'm in deep space. There's nothing here anymore. I'm going to be alone forever. You're going to find my skeleton buried in this suit. Don't be surprised if this voice sounds more energetic than the skeleton, aliens.

You know, at the beginning of this whole journey, I had believed that all stories ended happily. But now, I'm not so sure.