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Depths of the Mind Part I

The tunnel before me flickers in the fluorescent lighting with ominous and foreboding intentions, a silent warning of what lay ahead, and yet I walk on. I always walk on. Doors line the grimy cement walls, each presenting an opportunity for escape, and yet my feet continue forward. My mind screams for release from this horrifying pattern and my eyes scan the passageway for the best possible getaway route, nevertheless my body disobeys and carries on down the tunnel. Screams barrel down the hallway, paralyzing me momentarily. Such gruesome screams of agony and pain, of suffering and sadness, yet I walk on without hesitation.

Blood paints the walls now, first faded then fresh, sending shivers down my spine. Iron and rot choke the air like smoke. I run my eyes along the walls searching for a door to run through, only to find one exit remaining; fear and dread fills me from my very core as blood drips down its hot iron surface. My feet continue to walk, stopping inches from the door; my hand reaches for the handle, grasping it firmly. The searing heat shocks my body, returning it to my control. I turn to run, ripping my burned hand from the scorching door knob without regard for the pain, and attempt to flee before it’s too late. The grind of metal echoes along the tunnel, signaling the monster’s release with its eerie cry. The monster’s hazel eyes glint in the incandescent light, revealing his voracious hunger – the Jackal. He lurches forward on his right paw, sniffing the air on instinct. I turn to gaze at his sleek auburn and black furs, admire his large, pointed ears, and wonder how such an attractive beast can cause harm. In moments, the beast seizes me in his jaws, wrenching me from side to side, then drags me back through the door.

The door swings wide on its own volition to accept me, and the Jackal walks forward. My stomach heaves from the wretched stench radiating from the countless dead bodies. Falling from the monster’s jaw, I land on several severed limbs and gutted torsos, forcing me to vomit into an empty ribcage until my nausea subsides. I observe the bodies, searching for some comfort, but find horror; each brutally murdered corpse possesses the same face – my face. The Jackal cries out, tearing my gaze from my own glazed eyes. Hundreds of ravens fly down from the shadows above and rip at my eyes, my throat, my stomach. Larvae crawl from the desiccated carcasses and worm their way down my throat, cutting off valuable oxygen. As I sputter and gargle through the worms for air, spiders swarm over my body and inject paralyzing venom into my precious blood. Rats scurry over the bodies littering the floor, rushing to feast on my open wounds made by the ravens that still claw and peck at my intestines. Only when the Jackal cries out again does it end. The ravens, worms, spiders, and rats vanish as the floor falls away.

Devastated remains cascade around me as I fall to my death in endless anguish, my eyes on the Jackal. I reach instinctively for his fur, attempting to save myself from falling, yet he only watches on. Darkness and decay surrounds me and I realize how much I suffer. My various organs now lay in ribbons in the gaping cavern of my abdomen, my left eye hangs by a thread of flesh from the socket, and my ribs are ripped open to expose my beating heart and lungs. I would scream but breathing hurts. All this pain, and for what? I close my one good eye and try to forget, but the agony shines through. My body slams onto sand, forming a cloud of protection around me. When the dust settles, I rest and take in my last few moments. A rough hand touches my face, forcing me to pry open my eye. My love, in all his glory, kneels before me. His brown eyes gaze into mine saying so much in some language unknown to me. He places his rough hands in my gaping chest and rips my heart out. Slowly, as if he possesses all the time in the world, he raises my heart to his mouth, opens wide, and bites deep. Each bite sends shocks of pain up and down my spine, as if my heart remains in my chest. Only when every morsel resides in his stomach does he turn to me, mouth coated in my blood, and laugh with a menace so frightening, I choke on my fear. He stands, still cackling, and looks directly into my eyes for the last time before stomping me out of existence.




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vegetariangirlThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Nov. 12, 2013 at 4:43 pm:
You have great desprictiveness (if that is a word) in your story, it's awesome!
 
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Snowflakes said...
Oct. 30, 2012 at 4:55 am:
This was so strange to read! I really like how descriptive you are, you have literally created a horror scene with your words - I could picture everything that was going on in my mind, and it was terrifying. However, I personally don't understand/like when the love eat her heart. I know that it links with your question, but I don't get how it fits in here? And I find it pretty disgusting in all fairness, I can deal with picturing the other stuff, but not that.
Apart from that, I th... (more »)
 
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