The Land of Seven Hells

Prompt from the song Daylight by Harry Styles, from the opposite side of the guitar.

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The Land of Seven Hells

He lay in the lowest reaches of the valley. Resting.

         Above the sound of his labored breathing, he heard the shadow of night creeping in upon him. All his fears lived in that shadow. Now, they bore down upon him . . . twilight in the land of Seven Hells.

          Past screams from his own mouth whispered in his ears, winding their way through the archives of his mind. Searching, ever searching for that place where they could sink in their grip and resurrect the fear.

         He cried out in despair.

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From afar, the hurried footsteps of fear edged closer. On the naked back of twilight, fear tossed and turned, fidgeted in its eagerness and readied itself to jump into his heart.

          He saw it then. Twilight . . .

         But this twilight was not normal.

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Didn't twilight begin at the lowest point of the land and work its way upward?

         But this twilight . . .

         There it was, perched on the highest tips of the trees on the faraway mountaintop and beginning to make its way down the mountain. And was that Mister Trepidation riding in its saddle?

         He looked again.

          Having enveloped the trees, twilight spread silently down the mountain.

         He watched it.

         It made its way through the spruce trees, across the railroad tracks, the creek and onto his face.

         As if it were a gray-black dye soaking into a white cloth, darkness fell.

         He stirred from his rest. I wonder if I can outrun fear?

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Mister Trepidation eased up on the pressure against the spurs digging into the side of his mount and slowed as he approached the still warm spot vacated by his prey.

          When I catch him, and no doubt I will, I aim to instruct him on the futility of daydreaming about more hours of daylight . . .



Note: Use this as a paragraph in The Box of Seven Hells Series.