WARNING: A bit disturbing, even to me...so read with caution and keep in mind that it's just a dream.
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Drowningdrowningdrowning in air so thick you’d think it could choke people.
Futile, futile attempts Henri makes. Clawing, struggling, choking, (drowningdrowningletmebreatheLETHERBRE—)
The air tastes like blood, sticky and salty and metallic on her lips.
She opens her mouth, to spit out the air—
And she’s screaming breathlessly, hoarsely gasping for air (CHOKINGnothingnomoreplease), until all that comes out of her are weak, breathless huffs.
Fingers ripple around her, trying to will away the air that wraaaps around her throat, her entire body.
Constricting. Constricting. Heavy is the breathing, and the thrashing and the air and—
(Deathisshebreathinglookstoopeaceful)
There is an unrelenting weight sitting on her chest, like a dead—
PAIN. In her heart. In her body. Clawing through the skin and breaking free, like a blood-soaked bird.
Bones snapping. Screams that drive into the brain and just (SCREEEEECHsoundofcrashingfalling) burn.
And scar. And bleed.
Torturous pleading. Monotonous does the harsh chanting sound, rising, rising until it reaches a crescendo.
Never-ending, growing. Like a cancerous tumor that will not stop until it has infected everything.
Until it has killed.
Until there is nothing left but the soul-less carcass, a shell, of what used to be.
- END -
