2 Wet Pants
A barren unoccupied land. A world which sapped his mental strength bear. Leaving him no rope to grasp onto. This was the status of his emotions. When he came to, the 'dream' was still here. Omnipresent, being indestructible.
All he could recept, was the slithering near him. Everywhere, as if countless snakes crawled onto him like a pot of honey. Crawling, slithering, every single second! Moving near his body continuously, constantly occupying him. A company he does not want.
Darkness, as black as a blind man. A night that never ended. A world which was covered away from him. He had no vision, no eyesight, no eyes! He could not see nor gaze at any object within his surroundings. The unknown of the void constantly crept upon him. Leaving him vigilant, for every moment that passes.
Smell? The closest he got to a scent he had a whiff of, was feeling the aura of his mind crumbling! The smell of fear cradled him the longer he was conscious. A vapor, mist that passes all of his defenses. The fog filled his soul, becoming a smog that stuck upon him like glue, inside him.
There was the taste of what scholars called 'the wet pants', as he cowered in fear. His body constantly shivered, jiggled like a slime. His body with no limbs, trembled the more the thoughts and circumstances assaulted his head.
The only senses he had, was his deformed hearing, and the sense of touch. The touch which felt like illuminated imperceptible ghosts rubbing upon the shell of his body. Giving one the shivers behind one's spine. His mind constantly suffered from a case of severe dementia.
Just what had he done so wrong in his past life to deserve being haunted like this for eternity? Had he played around with god's mistress? Maybe even a trio with his daughter? How else could he have been punished this hard for the rest of his life? How could one be this cruel to someone? This was being sentenced into eternal damnation! His body of no limbs, nor eyes, or mouth, was definitely him no longer being human.
'Just how much was I hated?', he felt sad. There was nothing he could do, other than look at the current circumstances he faced. He could only make do with what little lifeline he had left, to live his life what little life he had left within this.
His body was submerged by things. Feeling as though he was constantly pressed on, but also afloat. 'Perhaps am I in a pool? A ocean... or... lake maybe?', he thought to himself as he was suppressed by a heavy depression.
His body of his... it seemed like, there was no shape. He knows... there must be a shape though, for he is still alive and not dead. Since he was not human, was he maybe like a slime from those weird JP novels? He could sense that he was like a squashed sphere, but never had he remembered anything where a slime had been haunted like this, or be in a body of water. He did not have the power to be Aqua Slime, why was he born like this? What stupid author would write a novel like this!?
'What was that?', a noise interrupted his thoughts.
[H-hel... help me...]