Closer .2
I am wandering about sheer endlessly branched underground corridors with a peculiar feeling of familiarity creeping through my heart. The walls are tiled, covered in a filthy yellow and rust and it reeks of vinegar and wet steel. Something is following me as I walk around in what, despite the appearance, I know is a dorm, passing by former fellow acquaintances engaged in conversations – everything, although in an odd sense normal, conveys an atmosphere of grotesque. Evil is looming.
The corridors are thick with the presence of death but neither do I feel fright nor resignation, as if I am tensely waiting to dodge a bullet and somehow escape this labyrinth. As I turn around to see what was sneaking up behind me, I think by myself not having heard or seen a thing; but the feeling of being haunted violently breaks my wariness, crawling up my back and slowly pushing its icecold claws through my throat.
All of a sudden the walls around me crumble, dissolve and within the blink of an eye I find myself huddling in a smutty ventilation shaft holding a tiny creature in both my hands. It stares at me with the benevolent eyes of a friend. I grab it by the tail and hold it up for a few seconds, gazing at the animal with madness in mind. It lies in my open palms and its soft shape feels sorely missed to me when my twisted thoughts start centering on a despicable idea… How easy to push my thumbs through the creature’s chest. How easy to break its ribcage and force life out of its lungs.
I awake.
dreamworld · txt
November 21st, 2011 · No comments