An expanse of barren soil, dark and untrustworthy. The sky, though midday, is dark with soot and smoke. Great clouds of ash and ember hover high above your head, circling the top of a twisting tower.
The tower is darker than the rest of the scene, made of a glossy obsidian. The shape is natural, but surreally so: the twisting shapes are fluid and organic, but eerie and alien. The base stretches across the earth in a root-like system, ending just inches from your feet.
Your eyes trail along, following the tendrils up the tower, seemingly fragile, but timeless. It grows thinner as it rises into the sky, topped with a wide platform. The platform, barely visible in the smog, is curved slightly, like a dish, and lined with stalagmite-like protrusions. They point upwards and inwards, claw-like.
You look back down, past the great, gaping maws of windows that dot the sides of the tower. An archway. Many of the tendrils gather here, as if drawn in by some unbeatable force. Your nerves itch to draw closer.
The feeling grows as you peer through the darkness from afar. It fills your body, beginning at your feet, your legs, and spreading, tearing at your chest, your soul. From head to toe you feel as if you're filled with insects all vying to reach the tower - the needle on a compass.
It grows - as do your dread and nausea, your dizziness and weakness. The tower sways and looms over you, a god searching through your soul. The darkness closes in around you, pressing in from all sides, forcing your eyelids closed. A great rushing floods your ears, like sinking underwater. The sensation of falling leaps at the pit of your stomach but you're far too exhausted to open your eyes.
Not even for a second.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Dreams
PoetryA collection of short stories, poems, and half-written ramblings. ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 dream \ ˈdrēm \ 1 : a series of thoughts, visions, or feelings that happen during sleep ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 night·m...
