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Once again I find myself within the holy temple; after a certain age death becomes part of your life, to me this is just another visit.
Candles flickering, darkness roaming, deep moans of sadness filling the walls, echoing within the aisles, echoing within my mind. Echoing forever until I hear it myself, my mind crying out, my mind remembering what memories litter my thoughts.
This sadness feels like no other, though. It isn't another death. It can't be another death. The prolific pictures of great demons tell me that. Whispering in my ear, rasping in my mind, hissing in my thoughts. This is special. I've lost something special, someone special.
Time ticked, and ticked, and ticked on, rotating like the clock that it's associated with, driving you down the path of a lunatic until all you can hear is the screaming, the screaming of your bodies mental asylum. Laughing, crying, screaming, dying; rotting your source of purity, corrupting your happiness, infesting you. Changing you. Destroying you.
Why? Why is this so special? Why do you taunt me? Your brooding essence, telling me you know, yet keeping what the secret holds within you.
Maybe it's because I've finally lost someone close to me; death has always been so easy, just another day, just another loss. Yet, as a look down the mourning-filled corridor, I'm crying inside. Twitching inside. Mourning with those next to me.
Looking at his face all I can do is think of all the times we've shared. It saddens me to see him in this state; face white, staring at me, lifelessly, not peaceful but mortified.
I wish I could say goodbye. I wish I could turn back the ticking clock. Rewind the insanity. I wish I could see him again. But I can't. I can never say goodbye.
I'm dead.
Thanks for reading
RiCkOsS
Candles flickering, darkness roaming, deep moans of sadness filling the walls, echoing within the aisles, echoing within my mind. Echoing forever until I hear it myself, my mind crying out, my mind remembering what memories litter my thoughts.
This sadness feels like no other, though. It isn't another death. It can't be another death. The prolific pictures of great demons tell me that. Whispering in my ear, rasping in my mind, hissing in my thoughts. This is special. I've lost something special, someone special.
Time ticked, and ticked, and ticked on, rotating like the clock that it's associated with, driving you down the path of a lunatic until all you can hear is the screaming, the screaming of your bodies mental asylum. Laughing, crying, screaming, dying; rotting your source of purity, corrupting your happiness, infesting you. Changing you. Destroying you.
Why? Why is this so special? Why do you taunt me? Your brooding essence, telling me you know, yet keeping what the secret holds within you.
Maybe it's because I've finally lost someone close to me; death has always been so easy, just another day, just another loss. Yet, as a look down the mourning-filled corridor, I'm crying inside. Twitching inside. Mourning with those next to me.
Looking at his face all I can do is think of all the times we've shared. It saddens me to see him in this state; face white, staring at me, lifelessly, not peaceful but mortified.
I wish I could say goodbye. I wish I could turn back the ticking clock. Rewind the insanity. I wish I could see him again. But I can't. I can never say goodbye.
I'm dead.
Thanks for reading
RiCkOsS
Rickoss wrote:
> I'm dead.
>
> Thanks for reading
------
Now what if someone just skipped to the end?
Not bad, but a bit morbid, for obvious reasons.
> I'm dead.
>
> Thanks for reading
------
Now what if someone just skipped to the end?
Not bad, but a bit morbid, for obvious reasons.
'Twas a nice short read.
Nice. Atmospheric and with a twist.
Then I realised I'd just repeated what everyone else has said so far. Damn. :-)
Then I realised I'd just repeated what everyone else has said so far. Damn. :-)
Cheers. :-)
I like tricking a reader into thinking something's happening, when actually it's something completely different.
I like tricking a reader into thinking something's happening, when actually it's something completely different.
Atmospheric. Good.
Lovely. The fact that he's dead is a nice touch. A good alternate look at funerals.
Once again I find myself within the holy temple; after a certain age death becomes part of your life, to me this is just another visit.
Candles flickering, darkness roaming, deep moans of sadness filling the walls, echoing within the aisles, echoing within my mind. Echoing forever until I hear it myself, my mind crying out, my mind remembering what memories litter my thoughts.
This sadness feels like no other, though. It isn't another death. It can't be another death. The prolific pictures of great demons tell me that. Whispering in my ear, rasping in my mind, hissing in my thoughts. This is special. I've lost something special, someone special.
Time ticked, and ticked, and ticked on, rotating like the clock that it's associated with, driving you down the path of a lunatic until all you can hear is the screaming, the screaming of your bodies mental asylum. Laughing, crying, screaming, dying; rotting your source of purity, corrupting your happiness, infesting you. Changing you. Destroying you.
Why? Why is this so special? Why do you taunt me? Your brooding essence, telling me you know, yet keeping what the secret holds within you.
Maybe it's because I've finally lost someone close to me; death has always been so easy, just another day, just another loss. Yet, as a look down the mourning-filled corridor, I'm crying inside. Twitching inside. Mourning with those next to me.
Looking at his face all I can do is think of all the times we've shared. It saddens me to see him in this state; face white, staring at me, lifelessly, not peaceful but mortified.
I wish I could say goodbye. I wish I could turn back the ticking clock. Rewind the insanity. I wish I could see him again. But I can't. I can never say goodbye.
I'm dead.
Thanks for reading
RiCkOsS
Candles flickering, darkness roaming, deep moans of sadness filling the walls, echoing within the aisles, echoing within my mind. Echoing forever until I hear it myself, my mind crying out, my mind remembering what memories litter my thoughts.
This sadness feels like no other, though. It isn't another death. It can't be another death. The prolific pictures of great demons tell me that. Whispering in my ear, rasping in my mind, hissing in my thoughts. This is special. I've lost something special, someone special.
Time ticked, and ticked, and ticked on, rotating like the clock that it's associated with, driving you down the path of a lunatic until all you can hear is the screaming, the screaming of your bodies mental asylum. Laughing, crying, screaming, dying; rotting your source of purity, corrupting your happiness, infesting you. Changing you. Destroying you.
Why? Why is this so special? Why do you taunt me? Your brooding essence, telling me you know, yet keeping what the secret holds within you.
Maybe it's because I've finally lost someone close to me; death has always been so easy, just another day, just another loss. Yet, as a look down the mourning-filled corridor, I'm crying inside. Twitching inside. Mourning with those next to me.
Looking at his face all I can do is think of all the times we've shared. It saddens me to see him in this state; face white, staring at me, lifelessly, not peaceful but mortified.
I wish I could say goodbye. I wish I could turn back the ticking clock. Rewind the insanity. I wish I could see him again. But I can't. I can never say goodbye.
I'm dead.
Thanks for reading
RiCkOsS