Life Cycle

“Come, my prey, come. Lost in the heaven of souls, it’s time for you to experience our torment. And thus be my key to salvation.”
“Mike, why are you doing this?”
“Because they think you aren’t brave.”
“But why only the cemetery?”
And the debate perpetuated in my mind.
The numbness sent shivers down my spine. It was as if strangers were welcoming me. Or I embarked into this obscure world as a stranger. Trees seemed like they held hordes of ghouls. The full moon offered no solace. Each grave had enough potential to scare me to death. Captivating voices from the eerie silence infiltrated my mind.
Was it my nyctophobia?
No, this place IS disturbing, unnatural.
I turned my head.
Aha!
Eric, my friend, I owe you my life!
I sprinted towards him, oblivious to my environment. I clutched his shoulder, ready to hug him. Before his skull rotated, his breath nauseated me. He seemed old. No, not old. He looked emaciated, cadaverous as if he stayed alive for centuries albeit his face still showed signs of youth.
His eyes focused on my face, as if the very stare shall rip my face. The distance between us mitigated. I felt claustrophobic.
He spoke. His voice was hoarse. He lisped.
“Mike, Whaire hath you been? For eternity, I awaited your arrival. Now you shall satiate my hunger. Come, complete me.”
His hands clasped my neck. They metamorphosed. His eyes’ sclera emanated. An inhuman aura evolved around him which flayed his own skin. He grew pale. Signs of decades of torture flashed upon the epidermis.
My mouth opened, with no thought or control. As we stood there, face to face, blood drained from my mouth in an ethereal manner, as if it never belonged to me. And as it poured into his distorted form, it transmuted from red to black. I choked, not from suffocation, but because of the gradual drainage of my life force. He changed into something familiar. Something very well known, but I still couldn’t discern.
His features began resembling me.
He transformed into me.
I looked at me. And he looked at what was left of me.
And all connections to reality ceased, abruptly. I lost my grip.
I fell. Into a hole.
An endless chasm, descending for what seemed like forever. Spirits encircled me, mocked me, and rolled with laughter at my doomed fate. They berated me for appreciating reality and welcomed me to their impalpable dimension. And as I became one of them, disembodied, supernatural, I closed my eyes and gave up all hope.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
“Mike, why have you brought me here? And why do you seem so weak and pale today? Where exactly are you taking me? Doesn’t this path lead to the….
“Yeth, the cemethry. I dare you. If you’re brave enough, sthay there for 15 minuths.”
“And what shall I get if I do?”
“Never askth, Christh. Never askth. Always give. Sacrifice. It brings in peacth. Satisthfaction. Freedom. You lose your desire, realize that all hope is of no worth, and feel the burden vanisth into thin air. And above all things real and natural, you bear the unbearable pain of loneliness and lifelessness.”
And a blood-curdling scream ripped through the skies.
