[ WP ] All you hear is a dripping noise .

*Plonk* 
 
 `` There it is again! I do n't understand..'' 
 
 I realized then that I was talking to myself. Of course there never was anyone other than me there. The place, that awful place, was mine. All of it was me. 
 
 *Plonk. Plonk..* 
 
 The sound was hollow, and it echoed, folding over itself to infinitesimal vibrations, almost indiscernable but never completely absent. The sound replenished itself often, but not regularly, so that each new drop was as intrusive as the last. Never did a pattern reveal itself to me, some genius formula to attune me to the drops, to allow some form of relaxation from knowing what was to come. No, instead I cowered in agony as each new drop eroded my resolve. 
 
 *Plonkonk..* 
 
 I tried moving. I tried getting a new perspective in the deep, inky blackness. I scoured the smooth stone walls, searching, for the hundredth time, for an irregularity in the sloping boundaries, the edges of my existance. I found no comforting nook, and no respite from the relentless drops which were plucking at my nerves. 
 
 *Plat. Plonk. * 
 
 Perhaps the worst realization was that there was no source, and no explanation. The sound simply materialized from nowhere, becoming everywhere and everything for a fraction of a second. It was meant for me. There was no one else. 
 
 *Creak, splat. * 
 
 There had been no silence, it never existed. This noise filled my peripheral vision, clouded the horizon, and and spat out the sun. 
 
 *Bang! Crash! * 
 
 Bombs wracked my existence. The walls shattered, flew to infinity. I stumbled, fell to the crumbling ground. I began to howl, in lonely desolation. 
 
 *Shiver, echo* 
 
 The ink swirled, and I shimmered, diluted within, losing focus. 
 
 *... Plonk. * 
 
 Clarity. Sudden. All compressed, compacted to decipherable distances. Walls, ubiquitous blackness and oppression all resurfaced, the veil torn away at the last second to show it was all real. All of it still me, still there. 
 
 Dripping continued, remnants of reality slipping through the grasp of memory. None of it was ever there. The eventuality of all of it was guarunteed from the beginning, and the beginning was nowhere to be found. The dripping continued. 
 
 *Plonk.. Plonk... *
