• I watched as the sun set it’s purple glow across the northern banks. The dying trees blew with ferocity and strength, taking with it any traces of previous life. Homes, diminished to simple grass laden patches. Markets devoid of a single creature. Other than the fish in the sea, nothing lived. Plants dwindled in time warped speeds. Green to black, pale pinks and purples to white, any other colors seemed to fade to off shades of an unhealthy cream. Even the once noisy insects had disappeared.

    The sights of the island bore deep into my mind, crushing all hope of life. Slowly the images of the dying earth began to fade to a large black splot of nothingness. Increasing it’s mass, I watched as it seemed to grab at me. Reach for the life I held in my veins, the very pulsation of my heart quickened slightly.

    At that moment my thoughts were washed out.

    The death scene gone from my mind I opened my eyes to see the dark purple paint of my walls, black spring mattress that lay on the floor in a corner, and the small, low circular table at the opposite side of the bed. Drenched in sweet I breathed in slowly, steadying the few tremors that dared to flow through my body, leaving the hairs on my arms flying in spikes of fear. Picking myself from the ground I walked to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.

    My to-the-shoulder length hair hung in wavy almost straight lines down my face, cheeks flushed to a light pink, and tired eyes stared back at me as always. I looked at myself for another few minutes hoping to see something interesting there, nothing. Nothing was all I ever saw after each night of the same continuous Nightmare I‘d been having for the last 3 weeks straight. Questioning why I continued having the same dreams had already been done plenty, but my mind could no longer handle the possibilities of psychotic dreaming, so I continued my sleepless nights as a sort of punishment. A punishment for what, I do not know, but as days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and slowly I lost count.

    My friends grew from me and eventually no one ever came to check up on me. I decided this was also a punishment. Again for some unknown reason. My heart ached for warmth, comfort in some form, but nothing would suffice. I tried liquor, but as I drank I saw how putrid you could become from it, and stopped. Bars were full of drunken, perverts, which whom I swore I would kill if they as much as looked at me in an even friendly sort of way. Cutting at the skin sounded completely pathetic. There was basically nothing left.

    Music was the last thing I would think of, but as I lay there upon my black mattress, starring into the dull gray cast of my ceiling, listening to my heavy metal classics, I watched as my mind drew pictures of grotesque creatures, hideous men and women, and depressing sceneries. These pictures soon grew together creating vast paintings against the ever so stark ceiling. Laughter escaped my lips. The first in months. My laughing began to sour and grow painfully hallow. Cutting at the center of my heart, I let tears swim down my cheeks, burning the skin beneath. As I looked closer at the paintings I noticed how the ugly and hideous men and women were the normal people of my life, the depressing scenery, my bedroom, and the grotesque creature, myself. The tears streamed down my already soaked face. Pushing myself from the bed I stood. Looked toward the door and waited.

    Waiting for what I had no clue. As I waited something emerged. From the corner of my eye I saw a black shadowed figure stand from one end of my room and glide across behind me. Standing in the middle of the room I closed my eyes, took in a breath. Breathed out and said,

    “ What took so long?”





    ¶Others¶

    “Why do you wait for me every night?” Her voice stung my ears slightly.
    “You’re the one waiting for me. You and that stupid, thing around your wrist.” I gazed at the creature hanging beneath her wrist, a dog like creature hung limp on her arm.
    “What is that thing anyway?”
    “Well boy, I would fancy you should know. But, I guess I‘ll be on my way then.”
    The woman turned, her gray grizzled hair falling from the bun atop her head.
    “And, ma’ boy?” she looked back.
    “Yes.”
    “Do be careful. They tend to search into the darkest hours. To let your self doubt, would be writing your will.”
    The old woman shuttered a few words and she was gone.






    I listened for the figure’s reply. None was heard. A smirk ran across my face, slowly making my mind race towards the finish line of insanity.
    “If you will not speak, then I won’t go with you, you know?” I turned towards the figure.
    I assumed male, by the wide shadowed shoulders, straightness of the torso, and outline of the rigid superior face.
    “Hello? Sir? May I help you? If not, get the--”
    “Hello.” The figure whispered.
    My breath caught in my throat at the whisper. The voice was familiar, but at the same time, unknown.
    “Who are you?”
    Again he went silent.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    His head turned as if he were perhaps confused.
    “Are you here for me? To take me some where? Kill me?”
    His head twisted abruptly at the word ‘Kill’. My heart thumped louder in my chest as I realized that must be the reason he was here. To kill my retched self.
    “To kill? I. Take you. Some where.” His head returned to its possibly only humanly position.
    “To take.” He repeated.
    “So not to kill me? Or torture?” I asked softly, mainly to my self.
    “Take, not Kill, not Torture. Some where.” His head twisted.
    “So I take it, what ever you are, you don’t speak very well. Hmm, that is going to be difficult.”
    “Not to speak. You, take it very well.” His whisper as confusing as it was beautiful.
    He turned from me, lifted a shadowed mass, a hand I guessed, and ripped a hole through the wall in front of him. My living room not on the other side as it should but a black world, filled with nothing. As if he tore the wallpaper off the wall to discover black walls beneath. Unfortunately that was not the case. He stepped one foot into the whole, another fallowed till his hand motioned my following. I looked back at my room, doubts rose in my breath. “Should I? Or should I--stay….” My eyes turned back to the figure. “Might as well. Better than this hell whole.” And with that, I headed towards the whole, grabbing my black gloves from a small table and a piece of paper and pencil. I scribbled a few words down and wrote to one person.
    Done, I finally took the last step.
    Pitch black.