A writing assignment my mentor gave me. |
Long, bony fingers beckon me, their sharp nails filthy and broken. Through the shallow skin I can see dark threads of veins running in black patterns, continuing up the wiry arms. As I raise my head I take in the tattered, torn sheet that hangs like a grey funeral shroud on the thin body, revealing rotting flesh and exposed bone. Lanky hair that was once black spills over the skeletal shoulders and around the long neck, which has a gaping hole down the front. Inside the ghastly wound small white worms and a multitude of dark insects crawl around, feasting on flesh, muscle and tendons. The pointed chin looks unnaturally sharp and strange where it hangs slack and somewhat twisted. Through the open mouth comes a musky, rotten smell of death, as if breath still lived in this long dead body. Pale lips are pulled back over brown, uneven teeth, giving the impression of a constant grin. What was once a nose is now just an irregular hole that stretches up over where the right eye used to be, and into the top of the skull. The left eye stares at me from its perch on the cheekbone below, accusing me and letting me know I am damned for disturbing what should not have been awakened. Milky white mist surrounds us, growing thicker by the second. I can no longer see the outline of the old church ruin looming over this deserted graveyard, or the lights of houses further away. I am cut off from the world, from any saviour. My end is come. A voice sounds in my head and it makes the small hairs on my arms stand on end. This voice has no gender, it is a mix of many. It sounds as if it comes from far away. From beyond the grave. In slow, whispering tones they tell me they are here to get me, to lead me into darkness, where I will be punished for what I have done. I try to move, but my legs will not cooperate. The mist holds me to my place, its wispy arms caressing my body like the icy touch of a lover. The smell of death is stronger now, as the mist pushes me closer to the place where I will meet my doom. I feel my heart beating in a frenzy, but the sound of it is distant and hollow, as if I have already left this world. In a last attempt to change what I know is unavoidable, I turn pleading eyes on she who will accompany me to the darkness below. The look in her one remaining eye is predatory, her mouldy, rotting teeth glimmer in the pale moon light. With an iron grip she seizes my arm and together we walk into the darkness of the grave. As the thick mist floats away on a soft night breeze, a Ouija board and a pair of thick, black candles lie lonely on the ground of this long deserted cemetery. From somewhere deep below a long, dreadful scream can be heard. |