The Cursed One – Very Short Story

My sight of deathly glare that drains away that which makes you sane. Only at nothingness may my eyes peer, and as such, my curse be sealed. In the darkness I hear the walls whisper my name; water drip upon the floor, having coursed its way through the age-old walls. I kneel before the damp stones and taste the outside. It has a hint of moss and fungi flavour – the taste of home.

I am not bound by my limbs and can move freely within these room. Though my world is small, there’s a larger one within those walls that enclose me. I can hear them as I press my ear against it, the scurrying and the skittering. I moan when they do, wishing to be heard, but a response never comes. At least hearing my own voice is a reminder that I exist.

On rare occasions, the door opens and forth come men with heavy steps. There is no light on their presence for they know of my power; even so, I can hear their nervous breathing for I am one with the darkness.

They move clumsily within my domain and I encroach upon them, almost touching them, then I exhale my cold breath in one ear and then the next. They start and give off a shrivelled shriek, a short and manly one, but a shriek nonetheless. I picture their faces twisted in anger… the only warmth I ever receive.

The door close with a great clang. Left on the floor there’s a bowl of something vile, but I do not need it. I let it rest and I retreat back to my corner, feeling the scurrying through the wall.

They emerge and feast on my bounty.

Some nibble on me, as well, but they soon give up in distaste for there’s nothing inside me worth devouring. Strangely, I do feel pain, though, it’s not a displeasing feeling, one that I cannot recreate myself… I’ve tried.

Only teeth, or sharp objects, can penetrate my skin.

Such is the life of the cursed and here I’ll linger long before the Keepers had enough of me, when the walls will crumble and I once again roam the earth, catching eyes with those around me and savour their terror.


© Christopher Stamfors

Featured image by ChrisCold

Underbelly – Poem

A glint was found

In the darkness and the damp

Cities have their underbelly

Fear is what makes you stand

Standing before evil, it will face you too

What comes out of the darkness

Only you can have a clue

 

A face can turn evil at the sight of the unknown

Everything is a reflection

Of the past not shown

 

But though the unknown is a reflection

It will turn people away

For nothing stays the same

Except the knowledge that fear will never go away


© Christopher Stamfors

Acid Senses – Poem

The moaning

And the scratching keeps me up at night

My house too close to that which fear festers

At day they dissipate

Returning to the ground

But over time,

Their presence still linger

They invade your senses

And nothing will ever sounds as good,

Taste as good,

Or look as good,

Ever again

Their smell unyielding

The mental images

I try to foil

Mortality – Poem

Fear is the creator of meaning

An emotion ascending comprehension

For it is when we are fearful

That we are most alive

*

The fear of mortality

The fear for the future

All the same

However, we do not let fear bound us

Daze us into indecision

Take a chance today

So that we may one day not fear tomorrow


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