He fell desperately as dark sounds grasped at his face and eyes, tearing at his mind and gouging deeper still. A thousand wayward imps or demons crawled along his skin, and his voice was unable to find purchase in the slick walls of the nightmare. He fell like oil in the desert air, slick and bounded. His back curled inward and then outward, collapsing like a star as it curled around itself. No sensation gave him any notion of when this would end. It continued in an infinite array of moments, until the final collision. And then he was still.
