THE UNFEELING

(Three hooded figures stand in a cozy room, full of children’s toys and pink-colored walls. The scene feels warm and peaceful, but something is off. In the corner, a stuffed bear begins to smolder, unnoticed by the figures.)

EGASH: I know this isn’t the place for either-or, but, still… It is the right thing to do… Right?(Egash’s voice is quiet, almost uncertain, as he glances around. The toys in the room seem undisturbed, yet the air feels heavy. Behind him, a doll’s face begins to melt, but no one notices.)

IDASH: We’re here, the child is inside.(Idash’s voice carries no emotion. He stands still, ignoring the quiet crackle as the edges of a toy train catch fire.)

SEGASH: I only agreed that the child had to go. However, not like this…(Segash turns slightly, but his eyes glaze over the flames beginning to lick at the walls. The pink paint bubbles and peels, yet none of them react.)

SEGASH: To cast her into this chasm? Into the same abyss we stared in dread? Even I will admit that it was fear, not wits… fear showed us a way, and we chose it as fair.(Outside the window, in the distance, a bridge looms. It’s cracked and crumbling, with pieces already fallen into the abyss below, but they refuse to see it.)

IDASH: What’s done is done. We remain. That should be our focus now.(Idash’s words hang in the air, dismissive. He brushes ash from his cloak as if it were dust, even as the toys around him blacken and char.)

SEGASH: Yes, but how does it feel? Does it feel right?(A silence falls over the room. The fire spreads slowly, consuming the delicate children’s toys, but the figures stand motionless, their eyes never truly seeing.)

EGASH: …IDASH: …EGASH: Again, this isn’t the time for either-or, but still… we had to do it. We had to… to survive. And yes, we knew… we knew we were dooming ourselves just to live a little longer. Now it’s just the three of us in a crumbling world… our humanity either gone or forfeit.(The room darkens, the flames spreading more quickly now. The walls crack and twist as the fire consumes everything in its path, but the figures seem to block out the destruction.)

EGASH: Go where? We have been circling around like fish imprisoned in a bowl…(Behind them, the image of the broken bridge flickers. The room shrinks as the fire edges closer, but they stand as though trapped in their own minds.)

IDASH: Protected, not confined. God knows what’s outside the glass.(Idash turns his back to the window, refusing to acknowledge the bridge in ruins. The pink walls are now a dark, burnt orange, though they continue speaking as if nothing has changed.)

SEGASH: We are where we are, now we have to do what we must.(The floor cracks beneath their feet, but they remain rooted, untouched by the chaos that engulfs the room.)

EGASH: Confined with every shark there is, just circling around…(Egash’s voice grows softer as the room continues to decay, the sound of crackling flames louder now. The toys are nearly gone, reduced to charred remains.)

SEGASH: I suppose we’ll have to overcome this as well. For now, we must go. The struggle lives on.(A brief glance out the window shows the bridge fully collapsed, bones scattered below, but Segash ignores it, his words steady as if they aren’t running out of time.)

SEGASH: If you pay attention, it all fits. If it doesn’t, we’ll make it fit.(The walls seem to close in, but the figures remain locked in their conversation. An hourglass sits in the corner, its sand almost gone, though they fail to notice.)

EGASH: Are we? Must we? Will we?(Egash speaks in a low voice, his uncertainty palpable, though he refuses to fully acknowledge the burning room around him.)

IDASH: We should move on from the topic, but not move out there. We should stay where we are.(Idash’s eyes flicker toward the collapsing toys, but he quickly looks away. The room crumbles, yet they remain fixated on the conversation.)

EGASH: We might have just killed ourselves. Instead, we chose to postpone it. We’re dying little by little.(A doll’s head falls off and turns to ash, but Egash speaks as though nothing around him has changed.)

SEGASH: Yes, consequences exist. The ones we need and the ones we don’t. Destiny has been wound up by us. So now we soar and glide through it ourselves.(The hourglass in the corner is nearly empty, the last few grains slipping through the narrow neck. No one watches.)

EGASH: Ok, I’ll change the topic and move on. We must move on as well. Yesterday, all was fine. Today can’t be as wrong as we think, maybe there’s a mistake. So let’s move…(Outside, beyond the ruined bridge, the sky darkens as bones litter the horizon, but the figures continue speaking as if nothing awaits them.)

IDASH: Fear builds frail bridges.(Idash glances outside for a brief moment, but quickly pulls his gaze back. The collapsing bridge in the distance seems less real with each passing second.)

SEGASH: Fear is something we can change. Agreement is all that’s needed.(The last remaining toy disintegrates, flames consuming the final pieces. Still, none of them acknowledge the destruction.)

EGASH: Come on, we are afraid, I know I am. And the bridge is weak, yes. But it might be possible to cross it. Not sure if it is necessary, though. There might be alternatives, don’t you think?(Egash’s voice is almost a whisper now. The room, barely standing, feels fragile as if it could collapse at any moment.)

IDASH: This is real life, there are no ropes.(The last embers flicker, casting strange shadows on the blackened walls. The room is now barely recognizable, yet their conversation continues undisturbed.)

SEGASH: Aye, there’s no rope, but there are threads. And the weaving we began.(The clock on the wall, long silent, now hangs crooked. Time has almost run out.)

EGASH: As for you, it’s hope you’re embroidering. The most dangerous tapestry of ideas and ideals.(Egash stares into the ashes at his feet, as if daring the remnants to show some sign of life, but there is none.)

SEGASH: Better than wearing colors of despair. Or worse, nothing at all.(Segash’s voice cracks slightly as the final fragments of the room fall into dust. The broken bridge in the distance is just a faint silhouette now.)

IDASH: Enough damn poetry for today. It’s dark already. Again. And it will be for a while.(The light in the room flickers once more, casting long shadows of the three figures across the walls.)

IDASH: We rest now.(Idash’s voice sounds hollow as if spoken into an empty room. The hourglass is now empty.)

EGASH: I think we’re running out of time. We must decide.(Egash looks to the horizon one last time, where the ruined bridge looms over a desolate landscape, but he turns back, unwilling to face it fully.)

SEGASH: The world has used all the time in the world to come to this. Aye, but it also has got all the grains of sand it needs. We have only but a mighty few specks.(The last few grains in the hourglass fall. The room is now just ashes and ruin.)

IDASH: Why? The world used all the time it had to come to this.(Outside, bones and dust swirl in the wind. The bridge has collapsed entirely.)

IDASH: To go down the wrong dune is fast. We’ve done it before. We got back up, it’s true. Time and time again. And time passed faster than the sands beneath our feet. So, can your robes of color tell if we’ll have the time to do it again this time? Or the strength, or even the freedom to do it… again?(The sand beneath their feet shifts, threatening to pull them down into the earth, but still, they stand motionless.)

SEGASH: We have waited before and witnessed the world crumble from beneath our feet. It’s an illusion to feel safe just because you know the battleground.(The final remnants of the room are swallowed by the dark. The distant horizon is nothing but bones, sand, and silence.)

IDASH: I hope it’s also an illusion. It’s a conclusion without going through suspicion. How can you believe something in the absence of evidence, trail, or sign? Just because you want it to be true?(The ashes settle, the last toy crumbling into dust as the figures remain standing.)

SEGASH: There’s no need for signs to do your duty. To do what has to be done. The inevitable owns its name.(The silence is heavy now, as though the world itself holds its breath.)

EGASH: Yes, but then we are left in shambles. You too. And you complain as well. Things are not simple. Life never is. You claim to deal in certainty while we breed more chaos in a chaotic world.(Egash’s voice rises, but it is swallowed by the darkness pressing in from every corner of the room.)

IDASH: Your words are complicated. Your words are chaotic, too many of them. But you can’t eat words. You can’t breathe words. You can’t drink words. And as bad as you claim it to be here, at least there’s food, there’s air, and there’s water. Is that complicated to understand?(The walls, the toys, and the colors of the room are all gone now. Only shadows and smoke remain.)

EGASH: So, we’re stuck again…(Egash glances at the others. The ashes at their feet are all that’s left of the room. The bridge outside has collapsed entirely.)

SEGASH: We must move, yes. But we’ve made progress too, it’s important to recognize that. We’ll make it.(The ground beneath them shifts, but the figures stay still, holding on to what little hope remains.)

IDASH: We’ve made effort. Lots of it.(Idash’s voice is bitter, but resigned.)

SEGASH: Still, we try!(Segash clenches his fists, as if holding on to the last grains of hope before they slip away.)

IDASH: Still, we try.(The silence grows heavier as the figures stand amidst the ruin, but their voices remain steady.)

EGASH: Still, we try…(Egash glances at the horizon one last time, but the bridge is gone.)

SEGASH: Still, we try, so one day we might soar, and one day we might fly!(Segash’s voice is defiant, rising above the ashes.)

IDASH: Still, we try.(The ashes blow away, revealing nothing but bones and decay.)

EGASH: From egg to pillow?(Egash’s voice is quieter now, almost a whisper.)

IDASH: Only the in-between matters.(The wind carries away the last remnants of the room.)

SEGASH: Luckily, we are the in-between.(The figures stand motionless, surrounded by nothingness.)

EGASH: The in-between of specks is just nothing or a bit of air?(Egash stares at the emptiness around them.)

SEGASH: This is not what I said. You’re warping words, turning whispers into roars.(Segash’s voice is strained, but controlled.)

EGASH: I’m sorry, you didn’t. I’m just circling chasms and sometimes I lose balance. Sometimes their depth is real, other times they are not. But even though this feels like a nightmare, I don’t want to risk falling only to find out if this is real. Not anymore, anyway.(Egash’s eyes drop to the ground, where bones and dust swirl at their feet.)

IDASH: Forget about the apologies, a storm is coming. I agree now, we must move.(Idash looks toward the horizon, where the wind picks up, sending sand and bones into the air.)

IDASH: Maybe they are just windmills.(The figures turn to face the oncoming storm, yet they stand rooted in place.)

EGASH: What about the road, the monsters, and giants along the way?(Egash glances at the collapsed bridge, now nothing but rubble and dust.)

SEGASH: Yes, windmills, giants, or gods. We chose to start this, so now we walk this road and deal with what has to be dealt with.(Segash’s voice is firm, though the world around them has already crumbled.)

EGASH: Yes, so we agree?(Egash looks at the others, the air heavy with ash and bone.)