You can never tell what you may find at an old bookshop... |
Book of the Damned A nightmare image penned in ink falls from a book, tattered and torn. Long forgotten, stained with years, it bears an imprint that is borne upon a deteriorating parchment sheet. Within I find a message inscribed wrought by a hand chaotically that describes the owner's demise from this ancient portal warningly with broken thoughts, now incomplete. Infectiously, the ink turns red and flows into my vein. A numbing feeling spreads and noises echo in my brain. A clamor never ending. Voices crying incantations from a place within my fears. I hold the aged paper tight and watch it stain with tears. A darkness now descending. I see my soul melt in the falling drops trapping me in an image embossed as I slowly disappear from this plane into a world of nightmares and chaos. Damned with no hope of relief. I am sentient lines upon a page; a tortured picture that is myself. And so I will forever remain until I am removed from the shelf. An image of eternal grief. Notes Prompt: "ancient portal" Thank you for reading my words... Please take a moment and leave a comment... criticisms, reactions, "attaboys".. all are equally welcome Ken |