Ben found himself standing on the side of a vast mountain, looking out against the surreal night sky, plastered with a multitude of colorful star clusters. He reached out to touch the universe, like it was only an arm’s length away as the vacuum of space seemed to devour all sound. The passing of time was stretched, drawing long lines behind anything that moved.
Standing before him was a person with their back turned to him, looking out over the mountains. Ben stepped up, feeling the crack of sea shells break beneath each step until he was looking over the persons shoulder. Using their finger as a reference point, Ben focused his attention towards something moving behind the jagged peaks. Scrutinizing the scene, he watched as a massive hand grasped the mountains zenith and pulled itself up. What came up over the pinnacle couldn’t be described as a face, but rather the gaping maw of a swallowing blackness.
The person’s voice was the only thing that could be heard against the deafening silence as they whispered the words “The Hollow.”
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