Author: Ventracere PM
So many faceless traitors, drowning, drowning, no way to surface.Rated: Fiction T - English - Horror/Angst - Words: 349 - Published: 04-28-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3017654
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Dark. Midnight. The lack of light.
A figure sat on the edge of the Chair
Gazing staring, mind dangerously wandering.
Sketches littered the walls, the floors
The desk, the table.
Figures drawn tastefully,
Hands and feet positioned to strike
Or just standing, holding a pose.
But none had faces.
No smile, no frown
No eyes, no facial features.
The figure stood, strode out of the pitch black room,
Dressed in old, worn, slightly frayed jeans
And an old grey sweatshirt.
Thunder rumbled in the distance,
The sky so dark, black clouds shrouding the sky
Yet the figure walked on
Eyes trained on the ground, unaware of the
Streaking pain shooting up
The nerves of the slender body.
Lightning flashed exposing a hunched shadow
Clutching its head in agony as it followed the figure.
The figure trudged on, getting drenched as rain poured,
Approaching a well-hidden, usually moonlit lake.
The path seemed to be swallowed by once kind willows
Weeds, and ferns weaving themselves over
Closing like a door.
Mirages of faceless figures –
Faces as pale as paper,
Faces as flat as the paper they were drawn –
Reached for the on human
Their creator, mentally as nightmarish as the rest of them.
The figure collapsed to its knees,
Shadow and reality melding
Resigning to loss
Wishing for oblivion.
Throat closing, vision blacking.
Consciousness fading little… by… little…
"Breathe… Breathe…" the sky seemed to sigh
"Build a wall, disappear" drenching rain raged on.
The moon seemed to break away the clouds,
"Surface… SURFACE!" it cried
Its rays reflecting of the rippling waters
Of the angry cerulean lake
Bathing the figure, whose eyes turned up to meet
Redemption. Recovery. Artemis.
The figure stood eyes sad, but alive.
Mind was unraveling the cords
Burning down the walls
Eliminating the nightmares.
The faceless figures seemed awestruck
One by one faces redrawn
Eyes opening and leaving, disappearing from life.
Crouching down once more
To touch the now still lake,
The figure skimmed thin fingers
Along the top of translucent reflection of the Moon
One word echoing: