Lyncathropy

- A Short Prose -

From a solitary slumber you awoke, your eyes greeted to nothing but the darkness that shadowed your room. A swallowing cold reached your fingertips; your bare feet; it crawled up your thigh and laid its icy hand upon your stomach. Then suddenly, the frost poured into your chest and crawled up your spine until it gnawed at your throat like a ravenous wolf. You felt your heart freeze as if no warmth could touch you, liberate you; remove you from this unwanted hardship. Again, as if without mercy, the ice struck your throat once more and vanished; but the terror had not gone yet. It 

proceeded to and without fail, emerge from the blackness. That is when the voices came. At first they thundered softly in your ears, merely whispers that daunted your mind. Then little by little, they grew: louder, louder, louder; until the thunder struck with lightning and your head began to whirl. They screamed and shrieked, so you shouted louder but nothing could drown out the noise, in fact it thrived on your fear. It grew so wildly you decided to run. If you could not suppress it, you could run from it and that was enough. With that you leaped from your mattress and pulled the heavy door from its rusty hinges. Making your way to the grand aged staircase, you descended the marble lined stairs with one foot slamming a step each time. It was as if your footsteps matched the thumping of your heart beat; and echoed with the chorus of voices that still strummed inside your head. You ripped your hand from the banister and retreated to the velvet-trimmed corridor, where you stood, contemplating which exit could permit your escape. You staggered towards the living room door; with its heavy frame and elaborate locks, you fumbled with the latch faint-heartedly until the room at long last granted you entrance. With the cries still ticking in your head, you ran to the window and thrust it open. The silk moon beamed down from its gloomy throne and you sensed its white light on your skin; in your hair, reflected in the glimmer of your eyes. Suddenly, the recognition you had for the voices had all but disappeared, leaving your mind open to free thoughts again. Exhausted by this newfound silence, a drawn sigh passed through your lips. Then, without warning, your body began to tremble and your skin began to burn; it was though you were trapped in the embers of a raging fire. Then the pain struck your head and you clutched it in wild discomfort, your knees crumbling helplessly underneath you. Now with your frame half alive on the floor, the wringing and wrenching came. At first, your arms jolted, then your legs and then inevitably the entirety of your slight body broke out into violent spasms. Fear, turmoil, suffering; all these emotions surged into your heart like a rogue wave, destroying the once tranquil district that was your mind. 

Written October, 2016

© 2018 JASMINE ERICE-HARLING.

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Poetry - Fictional Writing - Prose

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