It took time, and wasn’t easy. The bruises and cuts hurt. The physical pain stopped me many times and I wondered if I’d ever make it through the wall to whatever was outside. But I couldn’t go back. I knew the crack was sealed, but I’d gone so far into the wall I didn’t know if I could make it back if I tried.
When I stopped, I saw the light ahead of me. Something was outside the wall. So I never gave up. Always, I started toward that light once more.
At night, I slept, and dreamed of the people I’d known. I saw them in pictures, snapshots, candid photographs. They were all dead, skeletons disguised as people. No hearts, no souls, only empty, living in their empty, safe, little world, inside the wall, in a tiny reality.
And always, I woke, and started toward the light again.