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Melodious_silence
Junior Member

since 2004-01-05

Posts 37

0 posted 2004-01-10 07:33 PM

I know it's here.  I can feel its presence, like death.  The pain hovers over my well-being and takes part of me away.

   Through drawn windows the sun settles into her bed, shoving the moon out to do her share of the duty; watching over the land.

   Cold shudders up my arms and down my neck to my back.  I can't see it, but I can feel it.

   Darkness pulls the once vibrant colors of my surroundings into a monotonous gray.  There is one thing that sets itself aside from the setting.  Protruding out of the darkness is an incessant blinking red light.

   I keep a cool, gray-blue eye on the light, concentrating on something that foils itself against the macabre atmosphere.  It blinks in rhythm of my rapid heart beat.

   It's watching me, but I cannot tell from where.  I pray to my God to keep me safe, to shield me from all evil.  Yet I can still feel its eyes.  Will it touch me?  Or is it simply an incubus waiting for my slumber?

   But sleep will never come.

   I know if I get up to turn the light on it will catch me then.  It will wrap its long spindly fingers around my neck and stare its death into my eyes.

   And then I wonder if the term death is appropriate.  It was never living so it never died.  They are like machines, these mignons.  They are put together by scrap and given an electrical impulse to give them energy to move about and terrorize.

   I busy myself with these thoughts, thinking I could stray my mind away from 'it'.  Only I've made myself more terrified.

   I tremble as I feel its hands on the back of my head, slowly moving its fingers against my scalp in a circular fashion.  It's there, but it's not.

   It's like when you close your eyes and someone comes close to your nose and you feel this tickly-prickly feeling.

   That how I feel it.

   I shudder and close my eyes.  Even though with my eyes shut, it's darker.  I can be positive, in the least, that there is nothing that can get me except for my own imagination; which sometimes proves just as horrifying.

   Ending with this thought, I jerk my eyes open, frightend again, only to be assured with something worse than my horrific imagination could come up with.

   Satan has sent a follower for my soul.  It stands, its head a little above the coffee table.  The weak dusk light radiates against the beast's leathery gray body with all it's strength, trying to illuminate the horrible thing.

   Its eyes gaze over the table into me.  Its eyes are milky and glazed over with a glossy finish.  It hovers, its boney shoulders haunched over its chest.  It appears to be having trouble breathing, it inhales with a raspy noise escaping its slightly parted mouth.

   The immediate second I place my earthly, lively, eyes on its inhuman hellish body, I scream to my God for mercy and cover my face with shakey pallid hands.

   The blood drains from my body chilling my skin.  I am covered in cold sweat.  I'm afraid to open my eyes, I'm afraid if i do, I will have to believe.

   I pray to my God, begging Him to make the horrid creature before me to disappear.  I cry and fear that the demon may be etching closer to me.

   I am so frightened, but I realize I must look up some time.  No better time than the present, I rationalize.

   I embrace myself for another terrifying shock.  I wait for the waves of fear to pass through my body like an electrical impulse.

   But there is nothing.

   I stare forward and see the red numbers of the alarm clock beat against my eyes persistantly as I wonder whether the demon was an ulcer in my mind or if my God has saved me again.

merlynh
Member

since 1999-09-26

Posts 411
deer park, wa

1 posted 2004-04-16 05:46 AM

I read your piece over three times. I used the delete botton three times also on my reply. "I like it what you wrote."

Keep writing and don't stop, the adventure of what it can bring is only limited by how long you do it. I've learned the delete key on my keyboard serves me well. I found that writer's block was only the beginning of realizing one must consider outside of the work, and not think while writing or the magic doesn't happen. You'll have to excuse me I'm an old writer.

Jeffrey Carter

Member Elite

since 2000-04-08

Posts 2367
State of constant confusion!

2 posted 2004-04-16 02:59 PM

Nicely done!! I think I may have had this dream once or twice LOL

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