Eldritch Journey to a Personal Hell

"It begins"

I shudder awake at the raspy, ghost-like voice echoing through the small, darkened room. The sound reverberates hauntingly off of the walls and alert me to the stark barrenness of the small alcove of hell I seem to have found myself in. I slowly lean forward, my hands finally coming to rest on my knees, my back screaming in protest due to the cramped conditions I'd been in for time unknown. 

Tick......

Tock.....

Tick......

Tock.....

The sound seems to be coming from the depths of my own mind, the echoes sending shivers over my soul. My skin prickles slowly as I sit there, staring in to the Eldritch Shadows that cloud the room like a veil which cannot be lifted. My ears perk, the hair upon the back of my neck begin to rise, i can feel it..... The tremors of depression which i fight so often, but rarely lose, begin to grasp and wrestle in the core of my very being. Each passing moment I can feel the vestiges of hope, of memory, of calm, leaving me like so many fleeting butterflies, scared by the smallest rustle of the wind. 

"NO! ... no no no"

I curl myself into a ball, grasping at my own knees as I try to find some solace from the deprecated, vile emotions attempting to claw into my consciousness. My hands quickly leave my knees, and their grips, to clutch at my face. The sudden feel of freezing water against the base of my palm causes me to gasp, shying from my own touch suddenly. My back and head slamming the wall in my vain attempt to escape what had been perceived as those greedy, grasping fingers of Depression, with her claws that cut me to the core like no insult could. 

Shadowy, ghastly voices begin to murmur through my mind, whispering horrific words and deathly falsities that I cannot perceive. Their tongues sharp enough to cut through my resolve, their words smooth enough to coerce me into trusting them, and their confidence at the ease of my breaking enough to crush all but my most stubborn driving forces. Yet, Even it is not enough to stand alone. Slowly, the last Guardian falls, and with it, so do I. 

"I can see it"

"You know its there"

"Yes, I do"

"You know what comes next"

"Yes, i do"

Falling, falling, endless, despicable falling. I reach out, clutching at anything i can, small ledges, imperceptible features in the bottomless pit. My voice already hoarse, throat raw enough to draw blood with each scream... Screaming.... I've been screaming.... How long? I don't know, since I began falling.... Likely longer. Faux Realization that the pit will never cease... That my last grasp of hope, the floor I had clung to so tightly, had melted away long ago.

"Why?" 

I manage to cry out, the sound reverberating once more through the darkness, the deep pitch of depression which permeated my voice was more perceptible than the fear of recognition, or the daunting phobia of being able to see what else inhabits this personal hell. No sound meets my own, the minimalistic hums of my own voice clutching feebly into the air, though their life was shorter than even that.

Suddenly, I collide with something.... Maybe a ledge.... or even a door, though i have little knowledge of what. I scramble, like a beggar in the streets before a cadre of Legionnaires, for the door, for any hole I could fit. After seconds, such precious seconds, I fall through the entrance to this new plane. Its very feel was different, though the shadows had followed me almost religiously to the depths of this place as well. I reach out, fumbling my hands against the wall, relying on the last sense i possess undaunted by the delirium. Fingers scrape and scrabble numbly against brick and cement, much like that of a hospital's walls. My bare feet step upon the first tile, the ceramic square causing my flesh to prickle up at the sudden cold sensation, though I dare not stop, even to enjoy such a glorious sensation.

The first step by far the hardest. The very recognition of the act itself enough to shy me away for some heavy moments. With caught breath I force myself to move, my joints protesting, even locking up, in hopes to halt or stall my advance, my subconscious fear of this place, and what it could be, almost overwhelming to the point of emotional breakdown. Finally, with heavy breath and sunken heart, I begin to truly move once again, the heel of my right foot the first to make contact with the wholly completed floor, passing from the singular first tile which signified my transition from the endless pit.

The very echo of this movement felt like a blast of foreboding reminiscence, some shadowy memory hidden away within the corridors of my mind. As I walk, I can feel passageways leading from my own, small hallways and rooms, each with their own inhabitant. Each seems focused on me, Their gaze causing my unease to strengthen and embolden, my soul shivering from the fear of what hell I seem to have literally fallen into. I dare not turn my head, lest I glimpse the horrific vestiges of those darkened shadows and vile monstrosities, whose whole purpose seemed to watch me, and whisper those unintelligible words which seemed to scar my mind to its innermost rooms. The meanings, long lost to me, would startle even the most saintly, when whispered by  the lying, deathlike behemoths.

I continue on, trudging through the abysmal passage, fingers rubbing raw against walls, in such disrepair that small chunks jutted out into the air haphazardly. Cuts and bruises quickly became noticeable as the walls began to become worse, the depths of this psychotic wilderness fearsomely looming ever onward. Finally, it stops, the compulsion to continue on departs so suddenly, the only thing I can comprehend doing is to scramble out of the corridor, throwing the occupant of the room out with all of my might, not waiting for any more than a Hummingbird's wingbeat before slamming the door and scrabbling for the light before throwing every lock, bolt and chain upon the door, even barricading it with the 'bed', which seemed to have taken up a portion of the room, with its only friend being a large chair, which I unhesitatingly collapsed into, curling upon it against the corner and staring at the only way in, and out, of the room.

I hear nothing, as time passes, no scrabbling of miscreated claws, or snuffling of nameless horrors which I knew had begun to slip into the existence I had so mindlessly trudged not even minutes ago. In this sanctum, this paradise within the final ring of hell itself, I wait, hands wrapped around legs, and head pressed against knees to reduce open body mass and conserve what warmth i could produce in this hollowed state I slowly recover from. Fearful tremors pass through my form, my gaze irrevocably drawn to the door, though I knew nothing would open it. The light, which seemed in and of itself a very miracle from the grace of all that is holy, kept my sanctum lit, the very hum from whatever fueled this beautiful glow was enough to bring me from the edge of deprived insanity which I had been so hazardously tripping on. 

My very hope and inner being seemed restored by this tiny, once insignificant, incandescence. My mind sluggishly beginning to knit itself a whole once more, while my body began doing the same for all the bruises and pains i had accrued in the abysmal trip to my current haven. The glimmer of that singularly beautiful point in existence, whose radiance was awe-inspiring, yet fearfully powerful, was a a bastion of hope, within the horrors and depravity depths of this personal hell.

[Continuation: http://tlevee.blogspot.com/2010_10_06_archive.html ]