The moss grows on the stone. It eats the light. You are the stone.

The hall is cold. The air is thick. It smells of damp wool and old ink. You stand in the center. The floor is black marble. It is polished to a mirror shine. You see your reflection. It is distorted. It is stretched. It is a long, thin shadow.

You are not a shadow. You are a thing of flesh and bone. But the room makes you less. The walls are high. They reach into the dark. There are no windows. Only candles. The flames flicker. They cast long, dancing shadows.

You walk. Your shoes click on the marble. Click. Click. Click. The sound is loud. It echoes. It bounces off the pillars. The pillars are carved with faces. They look at you. They do not blink. They are stone. They are old. They have seen many things. They know your secret.

You are the Keeper. You keep the books. You keep the silence. You keep the rules. The rules are written in the book. The book is thick. The cover is leather. It is brown. It is soft. It feels warm in your hands. It is alive.

You open the book. The pages are yellow. The text is small. You read the words. They are hard. They are sharp. They cut your eyes.

*Thou shalt not speak. Thou shalt not weep. Thou shalt not look up.*

You look up. You break the rule.

The room changes. The air gets colder. The candles go out. One by one. The darkness comes. It is fast. It is hungry. It eats the light. It eats the sound. It eats you.

You are alone.

You call out. "Hello?"

No answer.

You call out again. "Is anyone there?"

No answer.

You are afraid. Your heart beats fast. Thump. Thump. Thump. It is a drum. It is a warning.

You move. Your hands touch the wall. The stone is cold. It is wet. It is slick. You feel a shape. It is a door.

You push the door. It does not move. You push harder. Your arms shake. Your breath comes in short gasps. It is heavy. It is wet.

The door opens.

It is a small room. It is dark. There is a chair in the middle. The chair is empty. There is a figure on the floor.

You walk to the figure. You kneel. You touch the face.

It is Margaret.

Margaret Holloway.

She is your friend. She is your sister. She is your love.

Her eyes are open. They are closed. They are empty. Her skin is pale. It is like the paper in the book. Her lips are blue.

You shake her. "Margaret. Wake up."

She does not wake.

You feel a tear on your cheek. You wipe it. It is hot. It is salty.

*Thou shalt not weep.*

You weep.

The room shakes. The floor cracks. The pillars groan. The stone breaks.

A voice comes from the dark. It is not a human voice. It is a growl. It is a hiss. It is the sound of wind in a cave.

"You broke the rule," the voice says.

"I did," you say.

"You must pay," the voice says.

"What is the price?" you ask.

"Yourself," the voice says.

You look at Margaret. She is still. She is quiet. She is part of the stone now.

You understand.

You are not the Keeper. You are the Kept.

You have been here for a long time. You do not remember how long. Years? Decades? Centuries?

Time is a loop. It is a circle. It has no beginning. It has no end.

You were Margaret.

No.

You were the one who loved her.

You were the one who brought her here.

You were the one who locked the door.

You were the one who said, *Stay.*

You were the one who said, *Be silent.*

You were the one who said, *Be stone.*

You made her stone.

You made yourself stone.

You are both.

You are the wall and the woman. You are the light and the dark. You are the breath and the silence.

You are the monster.

You are the victim.

You are the same.

The voice speaks again. It is louder now. It is angry.

"Leave," it says.

"I cannot," you say.

"Why?" it asks.

"Because I am here," you say.

"Then die," it says.

You do not die.

You live.

You are the stone.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the memory.

It eats the name.

Your name is gone.

Her name is gone.

There is only the room.

There is only the silence.

There is only the rule.

*Thou shalt not speak.*

You open your mouth.

You close it.

You are still.

You are quiet.

You are safe.

The candles light.

The room is bright.

The air is warm.

You are in the hall.

You are the Keeper.

You hold the book.

The book is warm.

The book is alive.

You read the words.

*Thou shalt not look up.*

You look up.

You see the face on the pillar.

It is your face.

It is smiling.

It is crying.

It is stone.

You turn away.

You walk to the door.

You open the door.

You walk out.

The light is bright. It hurts your eyes. You squint.

You are in the garden.

The grass is green. The flowers are red. The sun is yellow.

A man walks by.

He is tall. He is young. He is kind.

He sees you.

He stops.

He looks at you.

His eyes are wide.

He knows you.

He does not know you.

He is confused.

He is afraid.

He walks away.

He does not look back.

You stand in the garden.

The wind blows.

It blows through your hair.

It blows through your clothes.

It blows through your soul.

You are cold.

You are alone.

You are free.

You are not free.

You are the stone.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the time.

It eats the truth.

The truth is this:

Justice is not coming.

Justice is not here.

Justice is a lie.

Justice is a dream.

Justice is a ghost.

It does not exist.

Only the stone exists.

Only the silence exists.

Only the pain exists.

You are the pain.

You are the stone.

You are the moss.

You are the end.

The sun sets.

The sky turns purple.

The stars come out.

They are cold.

They are far.

They are dead.

You look up.

You look at the stars.

You see Margaret.

She is one of the stars.

She is shining.

She is watching.

She is waiting.

She is not coming back.

You are not going back.

You are here.

You are now.

You are alone.

The wind stops.

The air is still.

The world is quiet.

You close your eyes.

You feel the stone in your chest.

It is heavy.

It is hard.

It is real.

You are the stone.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the soul.

It eats the self.

You are gone.

The room is empty.

The book is closed.

The door is locked.

The silence is complete.

The rule is kept.

*Thou shalt not speak.*

You do not speak.

You do not weep.

You do not look up.

You are the stone.

You are the silence.

You are the end.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the world.

It eats the time.

It eats the memory.

It eats the love.

It eats the pain.

It eats the fear.

It eats the hope.

It eats the truth.

It eats the lie.

It eats the life.

It eats the death.

It eats the soul.

It eats the self.

It eats everything.

There is nothing left.

There is only the moss.

The moss is green.

The moss is soft.

The moss is alive.

The moss is you.

You are the moss.

You are the stone.

You are the silence.

You are the end.

The story ends.

The story never ends.

The moss grows.

The stone waits.

The light fades.

The dark comes.

You are in the dark.

You are in the light.

You are in the stone.

You are in the moss.

You are in the silence.

You are in the sound.

You are in the pain.

You are in the joy.

You are in the love.

You are in the hate.

You are in the truth.

You are in the lie.

You are in the life.

You are in the death.

You are in the beginning.

You are in the end.

You are in the middle.

You are in the now.

You are in the forever.

You are the stone.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the soul.

It eats the self.

You are gone.

The room is empty.

The book is closed.

The door is locked.

The silence is complete.

The rule is kept.

*Thou shalt not speak.*

You do not speak.

You do not weep.

You do not look up.

You are the stone.

You are the silence.

You are the end.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the world.

It eats the time.

It eats the memory.

It eats the love.

It eats the pain.

It eats the fear.

It eats the hope.

It eats the truth.

It eats the lie.

It eats the life.

It eats the death.

It eats the soul.

It eats the self.

It eats everything.

There is nothing left.

There is only the moss.

The moss is green.

The moss is soft.

The moss is alive.

The moss is you.

You are the moss.

You are the stone.

You are the silence.

You are the end.

The story ends.

The story never ends.

The moss grows.

The stone waits.

The light fades.

The dark comes.

You are in the dark.

You are in the light.

You are in the stone.

You are in the moss.

You are in the silence.

You are in the sound.

You are in the pain.

You are in the joy.

You are in the love.

You are in the hate.

You are in the truth.

You are in the lie.

You are in the life.

You are in the death.

You are in the beginning.

You are in the end.

You are in the middle.

You are in the now.

You are in the forever.

You are the stone.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the soul.

It eats the self.

You are gone.

The room is empty.

The book is closed.

The door is locked.

The silence is complete.

The rule is kept.

*Thou shalt not speak.*

You do not speak.

You do not weep.

You do not look up.

You are the stone.

You are the silence.

You are the end.

The moss grows.

It eats the light.

It eats the world.

It eats the time.

It eats the memory.

It eats the love.

It eats the pain.

It eats the fear.

It eats the hope.

It eats the truth.

It eats the lie.

It eats the life.

It eats the death.

It eats the soul.

It eats the self.

It eats everything.

There is nothing left.

There is only the moss.

The moss is green.

The moss is soft.

The moss is alive.

The moss is you.

You are the moss.

You are the stone.

You are the silence.

You are the end.

The story ends.

The story never ends.

The moss grows.

The stone waits.

The light fades.

The dark comes.

You are in the dark.

You are in the light.

You are in the stone.

You are in the moss.

You are in the silence.

You are in the sound.

You are in the pain.

You are in the joy.

You are in the love.

You are in the hate.

You are in the truth.

You are in the lie.

You are in the life.

You are in the death.

You are in the beginning.

You are in the end.

You are in the middle.

You are in the now.

You are in the forever.

You are the stone.