I lie on my back, I cannot move, I am paralysed. My ragged breath painfully comes out of my lungs as I stare directly above me. Everything is dark in the place where I am, but as I blink I can see a dark blue ceiling towering me. Spiked crystals hang from it, pointing at me and my heart speeds up as well as my breath, as I realise that the minimal perturbation in the air could cause them to fall. I am unable to move, restrained and my frantic breathing does not help at all. How I arrived here is unknown, who or what I was is also a mystery…all I know is my currently reality in which I am locked into a web of tingling sweat, trembling for all I am allowed to move as thick cold drops fall dawn my temples.

Silence in this place it torturing my nerves, its unnatural state reminds me of some gothic novels I used to read. Not even the wind is whispering around me, the air is so still, yet I wouldn't want it to move, for that would condemn me to a death of ice. My eyes search the "room", in which I am, looking for clues. All that they can see is the darkness permeating the place and the spiked menace above my body. My head, though, is not allowed to move freely as I would like it to. I can only turn from side to side, but not rise it upwards, except for a few inches. Parts of my body are numb and insensible as if they were missing.

Time flows so slowly as I hopelessly watch a drop of water slide along one of the widest icicles, falling right onto my forehead with a tip. My eyes widen, creamy white surrounding exceptionally enlarged black pupils due that blackness.

Crick crack I hear to my side and now even my head is paralysed. I fight against invisible bonds, trying to turn yet unable to. Fear grips my heart as the sound becomes more and more intense. My breaths become audible again, my suffering passing through my lips as my pained heart clenches and hurts. I can hear my whimpers, scratching at my sensitive ears.

Suddenly, I am again able to move, my head at least. I pull my chest upwards and look at a body that is not mine…thin black hook-like legs protrude from what must have been my abdomen, now a flat piece of carbonic nature. At that sight, I am frozen. I want to cry, but no tears fall out of my eyes. I want to scream, but my vocal cords have turned silent.

My arms no longer restrained wrap around my shaking body, only to gain a strident sound as their hardened knife-shaped edges brush against my coal coloured skin. I do not know what has become of me yet, but my sanity must be slipping if I am seeing this. That's it, I must be going insane, but sill I am unable to fully go mad. I cannot stop that feeling of cold rational acceptance settling in my mind. I want to refuse my new form, but I cannot. This process cannot be overturned after all.

He wants to rip himself apart, but he is not allowed to. He wants to strip his body bare from those inhuman decorations fate has put on him, but his "hands" refuse to obey. He bites at his own flesh, but soon he is forced down again, an instinct of self-preservation preventing him from moving. Part of his mind is revolted by his current form, the other part is protecting it. He splits in between rationality and insanity, he cannot stop his erratic thoughts, much less his breaths. His body is again lying on the marble table where he woke up at first, his hands moving around in circles on the frozen stone, caressing the cold as he searches for some normality in this nightmare he has been thrown into.

His mouth opens and the hotness of his breaths creates vapour in the air. He no longer struggles to get free, squirming on his personalised altar. Ahahaha…an hysterical laugh leaves his lips and his body shocks shaken by strong waves. A cutting sound can be heard and with a sonorous crack one of the icicles splits, detaching itself from the ceiling. His eyes are dark pools when the ice makes contact with his tiny body, penetrating it until he stops shaking and with an open mouth his head reclines back, whited eyes staring at the ceiling above him.