The sun: My OC’s perspective

I remember the sun perched at the very top of the tree—too still, too watchful—like it had been waiting for me long before I ever looked up. Its light wasn’t warm the way it should’ve been; it felt focused, intentional… like a gaze. And I swear—no, I know—it was calling to me. Not with a voice I could hear, but with something deeper, something that pressed behind my eyes and curled through my thoughts. It didn’t ask. It pulled.And I stepped closer without thinking… because somehow, I already knew I was supposed to.I remember my ankle aching with every step, a deep, wrong kind of pain that made my stomach twist—but it didn’t matter. It felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. The higher I climbed, the louder the pull became, wrapping tighter around my mind.

Just one more step.

That’s what I told myself.

Just one more.

Over and over again, like I was trying to convince something inside me that still wanted to stop. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Even when the bark cut into my hands, even when my ankle throbbed so badly I felt sick, I kept climbing—because the sun was closer now. Brighter. Waiting.

And every time I whispered just one more, I felt something answer back… like it knew I was lying, and liked it.

I remember the moment I slipped—though it didn’t feel like slipping at all. It felt… decided. Like the tree had finally had enough of me. My fingers tightened around the branch, desperate, shaking—but it wasn’t enough. The wood beneath my grip splintered with a sharp crack that echoed too loud, too wrong, like it came from somewhere deeper than the tree.

For a second—just one—I thought I still had it. That I could hold on.

But then my arm gave way with it, a sickening snap, and suddenly I wasn’t holding onto anything anymore.

Except the sound.

The whispers never stopped.

If anything, they grew louder.

The fall felt slow… impossibly slow. Like time stretched just for me. The air didn’t rush—it pressed. Heavy. Watching. And the sun above me… it didn’t move. It just stayed there, fixed in place, staring down as I fell away from it.

Or maybe… as it let me go.

And then I hit the ground.

I remember the silence first—thick, suffocating, like the world had been smothered. Then the warmth came back, spilling over me, wrapping around my broken body like something almost gentle. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to.

Because the sun was still there.

Still watching.

Still calling.

And as I lay there, staring up into that unbearable light, I realized something I wish I hadn’t—

…it had never been above me.

It had been waiting for me to fall into it.