Sunday, January 24, 2010

A dweller on the threshold

"The only difference between me and a madman is that I'm not mad"- Salvador Dali

I stalk these dark house is my mist shrouded Keep. A floor board creaks as I creep across a threshold. Moonlight guides my way; there are no lights here. That's the way I want it, that's what I like. I don't want to see the world- I've seen too much of it already. In the dark I can imagine the world a certain way, the way I want it to be: perfumed angels and cornucopia's of abundance, soft music that would make Odysseus willingly sink into the waves just to catch a melody...Instead, I have this abyss. My empire of spiralling thoughts and blunted emotions has preserved me thus far...I walk further into the shadows... the dank stygian void urges me toward the lower chambers...I feel my way along the wall; here, my foot falls silently upon the stained boards as I use the faded whiteness of the walls for a torch...What is here with me? I tense up. Something moves along the far side of the room...

....How this came to be, I don't know- I'll probably never know. What was once a small room, just a monks study corner with a cot, has turned into a mansion. I gained the side chambers; then up into the higher garrets providence allowed me to drift. Now the entire property is my dwelling- from deep into the ground- the dark wet soil and granite... and upwards to the azure sky itself.

Red eyes gleam. I'm quite shocked. Exploring the lower level has brought me to a fear filled impasse- in front of me in the shadows something stands. It breathes. I hear it. I dare not move; am I to deny my destiny at the moment of truth?


Post a Comment

<< Home