Once my asylum was found, and I was wrapped in her embracing arms of peace,of forgiveness, of understanding, she was ripped from me by a frigid acherontic silhouette. He grasped her, my asylum, in hands unforgiving and raped her. The innocence of her touch, the beauty of her gaze shattered before my eyes. The remains of her mutilated body flickered before me. As a flame that tries to find oxygen in a sealed jar fades so does she.

The acherontic figure comes for me now. It glides through the air as if it were a celestial being. The air around me turns into a bitter gale. The air in my very own lungs betray me. It turns to freezing water in the arctic winter causing shivers to course my body; it demands for me to cough,choke, gag, and to retch my soul. Try hard as I might I heedlessly obey. This is not enough for the silhouette it compels me to breathe more of the vindictive gas, to create a feral cycle of suffering yet I obey. Constricting my throat in a narrow passage breath become practically unfeasible, but the dead need not to breath.

As the gales tighten my lungs shut I am more than ever aware of the world around me. The last breath escapes my lungs; my last strain of worldly comfort turns to a ghastly mist in the frozen air. So gently it glides into the abyss where the acherontic man lies in waiting. With no remorse it is inhaled by his decrypted lungs. His eyes are sockets that are filled with sorrow and despair yet upon inhaling the breath they flicker malicious sadistic joy. He extends his hand forward. Slowly this task is accomplished for both he and I know all the time in world lies in his discretion. Wraithlike fingers swirl around me. They’re ghostly tendrils and bind my feet,my legs, my arms, my shoulder, my head, but they leave my eyes exposed. The man, if he could even be called such a thing, pulls me closer toward him. The closer I get the more I can see his splendid terror. The destruction of homes, the apathy of good men, the orphaning of children all stepping stones to his will.

In this bleak strange land where I once had the pleasure of meeting my asylum I find the one thing I least expected to find; Hope and all her dashing beauty. I looked to the remains of my asylum, now a hollow shell and see Hope fly above her. I knew with aid of hope my asylum would relight. With the aid of Hope my asylum would be reborn again in the invicible beacon of light I thought it to be and slay this dark beast.Freeing me from the cold grasp and to once again be held in arms of peace, of forgiveness, the arms of understanding. Once again I would have my asylum. I waited for that moment for what seemed an eternity. But as the sun rises I learned that harsh fact that just as on Earth, in the afterlife hope is a magnificent bastard.