User:Evita128/MySandbox

They referred to it as Ocras.

This item that was detiorating the condition of our world.

Many of my comrades were long gone.

The bark,the swift tide of the water,the sword I held, were all contaminated with what was inside it.

We were placed into a macabre game of psychological torment to ponder what was in the next life.

Often I wondered why I still existed, I could hardly prevent the harsh course our world was taking, yet I had every intent to prevent it.

I feared the capsule, but not for the reason everyone else did.

I wasn't terrified of the thought of oblivion; I embraced it.

For some reason, I treasured the thought that all we would be left with held no material form.

That there was nothing after this world.

I feared the capsule because a part of me cried out to exist for a little while longer; it begged and wouldn't stop.

It pulled a tantrum and I promptly resigned to letting it and my drive force me to keep moving.

The capsule came to judge us far too soon, and it appears I didn't want such an end.

What was I supposed to do when faced with a paradox?

The world was collapsing around me; creative mode was deleted, I required resources but everything was held in its grasp.

I could try to hold on or I could finally answer all my questions about what came next.

Ocras, it played God; it tormented all of us with the unbearable truth.