Sanctum Sanctorum

Word Count: 195

They are coming. Pain and torment they will bring, but also a reprieve from that which I fear most. Twisted tendrils of memories seep into my veins when I am alone. I suffocate, drown in the inky depths of my own mind.

Iron hinges creak loudly, the lost screams of a thousand others to my ears. Once upon a time, those screams were mine, ricocheting off unfeeling walls and careless floors. Now I simply stare as looming figures appear in the doorway, unheeding of the sweat that is dripping down my face, pooling in the small of my back.

I am somewhere else. Silky wind caresses my dampened skin and the stench of death and decay is replaced by sea-fresh air. My broken lips stretch into a smile.

Something is wrong. It begins to rain, and as the water touches my body, it turns to blood, slipping down my face with ease, catching on my tongue. Suddenly I am the rain, disappearing, draining.

I sink to the ground, wondering what has become of my body. I should find out. I don’t want to. Lying my head against cool stone, I close my eyes and dissolve.