Hola a todos, soy Humansleep. En esta ocasión quiero publicar mi trabajo en la comunidad Alien Art Hive. Y aquí también compartiré el proceso de trabajo, ya sea dibujo o boceto.
Intact, But Lost
It appears intact on the outside, but in reality it has vanished and wandered far into another universe.
The corridor finally came to an end. Not because there was an end to it. But because there was nothing left to pass through. The silence remained. The touch remained. The walls still breathed softly, like an old creature too tired to live but too stubborn to die.
And there—there was still one figure. Silent. Unmoving. Leaning against the wall of the dimly lit hallway, like a dusty cardboard box that had been stacked up long ago and left to gather dust.
From a distance, it looks fine. No injuries, no damage, no destruction. Just still. Too still. But if you look a little longer... there’s something strange about it. It’s like... empty. Like a house where the lights are still on, but the residents left who knows when.
He couldn’t remember how long he’d been part of the corridor. Maybe decades. Maybe a single second. It was hard to tell. In that place, time wasn’t a line. It was just a liquid dripping everywhere, then forgotten. Once he had fought back. Once he had been afraid. Once he had had something he wanted to protect. But all of that had been held so long it had lost its shape. All that remained now was the habit of simply existing. And that was enough. Or at least... it had been, until now.
Until one day—something strange happened.
There was a pulse. Not from the hallway or the walls, nor from his hand. But... something much smaller, coming from within him. Like the sound of an old object trying to come to life again. And precisely because it was so small—it felt unsettling. A slow yet heavy pulse... Once, twice. Then silence. He didn’t understand. But that was enough. Because for the first time in who knows how long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to have something inside him. He tried to listen. And suddenly... a thought emerged. Very small. Very distant. Not a memory, nor an emotion. Just a small sentence: “...I’m still here.”
The corridor didn’t like that. The silence changed instantly. The usually quiet corridor began to feel cramped. The walls were moving... Slowly. The hands that were usually gentle began to grip tighter. As if there was something that wasn’t allowed to leave. But it was too late. The soul was still, not out of fear. But out of confusion. Leave? Leave for where? Hadn’t this always been the only place?
Then a crack appeared in the middle of his body. Not a physical crack. It didn’t hurt. Nor was it warm. It felt like... remembering something he should have forgotten. And from that small opening... something emerged. Not an organ, not light, not a shadow, not a spirit. More like... a direction. A compelling sensation. It didn’t call out, it didn’t force itself. It simply made him realize: there was another place, one that even the corridor didn’t know.
His body began to peel away. Slowly. Not terrifying. In fact, it was too calm. Layer by layer, it came away. And beneath it all—there was him. Or someone who had once been him. It was hard to explain. Because when he looked back—he was still there. Still leaning, still whole, still retaining its shape, still looking like him. But empty. Motionless. Unresponsive. Lifeless. He realized only now that what had been touched all this time... what had been merging all this time... what had been embraced all this time... wasn’t him. Just the vessel of his old world. And now... he had stepped out.
He began to move. Not walking. Not flying. More like being pulled by something with no direction. The hallway began to recede. The walls turned into lines. Touch turned into dust. Now there was only space. But not empty space. In the distance were strange shapes. Objects that looked like roots growing in every direction. Vortexes, Holes, Cities, Eyes. Shapes that looked alive but did nothing. And everything was too big. Enormous. To the point that he felt like a speck of dust that had wandered into the wrong place. He kept moving. No destination, no map, no names. Just a sense of being drawn.
Then he saw something. Far away. Very far away. A vortex. It was shaped like a flower. Spinning, like a hole. And the closer it got... the more familiar it felt. Too familiar. Because that shape... resembled him. Or perhaps—everything that came here did indeed turn into that. Not a human. Not a spirit. But... a door. He stopped. And without a sound—something spoke. Not to his ears. Directly to his very being. “You’re not lost.” Silence. Then: the next sentence came. “You’ve just gone too far to turn back.”
This illustration was created with ink on paper, using a pencil.
Sketch:
Outiline:
On Process with Dotting:
He looked back. No hallway, no hands, no embrace, no old world. Everything was gone. But strangely, he didn’t feel a sense of loss. He was still whole, complete. Nothing was missing. Only… he no longer knew who he was. And for some reason—it didn’t feel sad. He stood still for a moment. Then he stepped in, into something whose name he didn’t yet know. And for the first time… the silence didn’t sound like an end. But rather—a beginning.
—To Be Continued...
This is all I can say for right now, sorry if there are wrong words or my typing is not perfect.
Thank you for taking the time just to stop by and see my work, and see you in my next work. 🖐👽
