The Chronicles continue: This mist reeks of stale burning, yet does not choke at my throat or lungs, nor does it burn at my eyes. Instead it engulfs my body, slithering around me as though it were a living smog trying to cuddle at me.
This mist reeks of stale burning, yet does not choke at my throat or lungs, nor does it burn at my eyes. Instead it engulfs my body, slithering around me as though it were a living smog trying to cuddle at me. Within this musty fog like smoke lives a warmth, a warmth not so defying but compared to the ice like chill. Hovering thick from the middle of my legs down, this misty haze of decayed and musty smoke hides the soft, mushy ground on which I walk that reminds me as my feet sink ever so gently into it of the sand at the breaking of waves on the beach that softly mashes over your feet.
Before entering this treacherous and silent mist I never would’ve thought how far it stretches or how smothering of sound it could be, so hollow and almost concrete in a way my withering strength can not explain. The more the ground mashes beneath my feet, along with the substantial silence this smog holds, I feel almost ready to simply lay my head down and fall to the ocean of sleep.
Within this heavy smog blanket I hear sounds from outside, screams and roars and the tearing of the sky – yet it is with such a delicateness within these smoke walls that feels as though I am in a dream hearing noises from reality. I try hard to not think, to avoid recurring questions, to maintain my strength that is so low and weakened. I try hard to neglect the humming chorus in my heart that yearns for a friendship like no other before it, a trust, a faith, just a friend to be with me in this cold and miserable nightmare, god please!
Everything is just so very heavy, I have nothing left, my eyes are closing, my mind is just so tired…
At first the thud of my body slamming down seems inconsequential to the tiredness that has been eating at my mind, my body and my core that as I open my eyes to acknowledge this fall from strength, I tell myself that it will be ok to just let it go. But then I see her face, my sweet love laying on her pillow looking at me with a soft smile that crumbles my heart.
I leap up, looking around the bedroom as the gentle rays of sunlight seep in through the curtains. “What’s wrong?” she asks, the sound of her voice so soft and gentle and real that immediately I am tearing, leaning against her and holding her so very tight. I want to speak to her, I crave so greatly to just say to her how relieved I am, but the words are choking me and everything inside of me is trembling. I shut my eyes and hold her closer, tighter — I just don’t want to let go of her, of the smell the room holds, of the light. But as inevitable as the sun setting by dusk I open my eyes to see that this ground I have been walking is made of burnt corpses and flesh, I gasp, choking on a scream before I can free the sound of terror when suddenly I am gripped by an icy claw, dragging my legs against the ground.
“No!” I scream when the dragging stops and I topple back to the ground again. Hurriedly, in fear, I scramble to my feet trying desperately to see through this veil of stale smoke that hides so well the possessor of the claw that dragged me. The mist is thick, silent and heavy. Again my heartbeat rampantly thumps in my chest as I try to focus through the fog. When I hear loud, ominous whispers circling and circling around me in the dense mist, “I know your name! I know who you are! You are aware.”
Like a vacuum of air being swirled and swirled, the mist and air begins to animate itself and momentarily I am deafened by the wind, blinded by the whiteness of the mist spiraling around me, then with a violent shove into my back I am sent crippling down to my hands and knees on a hard black soil.
I turn around and see the mist, curdling and boiling almost, glistening white. My back sore from the nudge, but my heart still reeling from that cruel dream I know will now haunt and add weight to my soul. Suddenly the air fills with the loud sound of soldiers walking, trumping aloud somewhere within this vile world. I can feel the hard black soil beneath the soles of my shoes shivering as the ground trembles from the coming existence.
Intrigue or dire fear. I realize that it is coming from behind me, within the mist…
The Chronicles continue in part 6...