I stood at the decaying cemetery gates, shivering from the violent wind and drenched in tenebrosity. The only source of light was the silver crescent in the sable canvas high above me. Though it seemed far closer, that ominous celestial being. Darkness was slowly but surely enveloping me, and it’s embrace wasn’t the loving kind. I was being choked. Yet I could not abandon this place, for in quietude, a dozen whispers were hissing. When I entered, my spine immediately straightened.
Treading carefully upon the gravel, I gazed intently at my surroundings. Countless graves, crosses and stone angels of cinereal colour were drowned in the crepuscular night. Engravings upon engravings of sentiments were carved into these ashen shrines. The occasional gargoyle terrorized the burial labyrinth. Rows and rows of underground tombs made the place all the more meandering and sinuous. Some of these mounds were timeworn, some were fresh. The soil upon the newly interred cadavers was still damp and had a strange odour. It wafted into the air and assaulted the olfactory nerves with some uncanny repugnance, causing a nauseating feeling to overwhelm my stomach. I stared at the gargoyles and they stared back. Would their gaze be as egregious in the daylight? Or was it the night that made their eyes blaze with a vampiric gleam? I blinked several times and focused on their orbs. Indeed, some demoniac presence inhabited them! They rivaled the fires of Abaddon and bore viciously into my flesh. Hark! A voice was speaking in indistinct undertones of arcane obscurity. I could not decipher these whispers, yet I understood they were in an ancient tongue. Soon, the phantasmagorical nature of the place had taken it’s toll on the very recesses of my brain. Branches became claws and the twigs I stepped upon were bloodcurdling screams. Now my stomach churned in tumultuous torrents and I fought the urge to regurgitate. It seemed as if the mist in the air was a hallucinogen, as a toxic fantasy was trapping me in its gossamer web. Spiraling further into this hellish delusion, the line between Earth and damnation blurred.
My aberration continued as I felt something latch onto my ankle. It was cold and scabrous, and it slithered onto my skin with serpentine guile. In my narcotized state amidst the spectral aerie, all senses were dampened, and I felt no initial shock at this contact. Yet the thing never broke away. It’s grip suddenly grew tighter, becoming painful and agonizing. Then, a realization shocked me into ghastly reality: it was a hand! There was no need to look at it, for I felt the singular grasp of each finger with such ferocity that the blood in my veins congealed. All at once, a terror bludgeoned my mind with unimaginable horrors; fears so dreadful that a myriad of gruesome, inconceivable thoughts rendered the fibres of my brain catatonic. Terrible, terrible was this sensation!
All of a sudden, this hand pulled my leg downwards and the ground underneath me became charcoal quicksand. Any sound I tried to make, any show of vocal abhorrence, had been vanquished. My descent into the dirt was excruciating, in the sense that I was utterly helpless. Again and again I tried to scream, but it was of no use. All the while Death was nearing, as by now only my eyes were above the ground. The last thing I saw was complete crepuscule.
* * *
I awoke from my slumber with the most horrendous sensation. Dread had seeped into my skin and paralyzed the nerve cells of my form. I found myself laying upon an ice cold surface, with nothing but caliginosity surrounding me. Movement was impossible. I again attempted to cry for help, however no sound would escape my lips. Was this Death? Was this the end of my raven-winged hours upon the Earth? Or did my heart still pulsate? How could reality be so abominable? I concluded that I was still alive. What was this place? What was I laying upon, and why did it pierce so bitterly through my frame?
Suddenly the shadows shifted. It wasn’t entirely visible, but I could certainly sense something apparate. The threads of my soul trembled, and cold sweat formed on my skin. With my body incapacitated and my brain in frenetic torment, I was terrified beyond imagination. The darkness shifted once more, and another shock chilled me to the bone. It stepped out of the darkness and I fiercely attempted to scream. Surely it was not human! Surely this grotesque creature could not exist! Yet it did, and it stepped forward. It’s skin was unnaturally pallid, severely battered and in some maimed areas threatened to drop off, slightly revealing the raw, vermilion flesh underneath. It’s legs were contorted as if by extreme force. Veins were visible in it’s lengthy arms, protruding in viridian vileness. The neck was elongated and thin, and it’s nose an aquiline monstrosity. Though the lips, or rather what they enclosed, were a fresh source of horror. They were thin and slightly grinning, it’s curve marked with damnable insolence, and as the upper lip twisted upwards, it revealed pointed dentures of a detestable nature. Then I apprehended the true character of the oculi. To consider them preternatural would be to belittle the devilry they beheld. They gleamed with a lacerating crimson, hypnotising and horrifying me. The creature proceeded to one corner of the room, turning away from me. After a few seconds, it’s head slowly rotated towards me. The eyes suddenly grew brighter, more blinding and cardinal than before. I was staring into the eyes of Satan!
The creature held something in it’s hand, though I could not distinguish what the object was. He came closer, my soul still fixated on the blood-coloured eyes. Then, as he was almost touching the surface I lay upon, I realized what he held, or rather what he intended to do with it. I was incapable of movement, yet when the sharp edge of the medieval device tore into my flesh, my vocal chords allowed me to scream.