Dying Light

Authors NOTE: This is only part one, feel free to tell me if i should continue!

During that uncanny hour when night and day become one, shadows crawl throughout the house searching for scraps of light to feast upon. The candle burning at my side casts a luminous dish upon my withered face- a feast to commemorate the splitting of this world. Where once my thoughts were fixated on days yet to come, now they desperately seek solace within the bittersweet memories of a bygone yesterday. How queer it is to lay upon this bed, with body worn and broken, knowing that at a moment’s rest, the grey-cowled specter of the end will come to greet me. Time has stripped me of my health and vigor, but I will not be consumed with ease. The shadows be damned! Let them starve another day! Sleep has called to me night after night, but I have yet to yield. Many would say I am mad for waging this war of attrition, but what do those fools know? What do the living know of the nightmares that lie in wait upon the horizon the separates waking life from dreamless infinity? They know nothing. I will continue this battle until I lose all sense and reason. Let those who seek to take this life from me rot within the crevices and corners of my crumbling domain.

Autumn’s whispers slip through the slightly opened window, beckoning the flame on my candle to dance. The shadows scatter in response, scuttling for purchase on the walls of my chamber. Their relentless desire to encroach upon all that I hold dear tethers them to me. Until their duty to their master is served and the light in my eyes has been torn out and devoured, they will persist. I pull up my covers, awkwardly aware of how childlike I must seem. Shame frightens me less tha—what was that!? A tap on my window. My heart gallops as I turn my head to look. Deep within my being, a deafening cry of mortal terror swells. It tries to break free but emerges as an impotent, almost silent, gasp. Perched upon the exterior windowsill was a horror beyond comprehension.

Two silver moons peered out at me with unwavering malice and disdain. Matted grey fur, illuminated by the twilight sky swayed ominously in the breeze. He has finally arrived. White panic drives me to act. I cross my arms, hands clutching my sides tightly. My voice returns. “You will not reap my soul!” The menace at my window did not waver. “Go away and leave me be!” The two round pits of mercury that were its eyes neither blinked nor looked away. Fear overtakes whatever strength I feigned to have and my voice becomes a murmur. “Please. I do not wish to go.” The wretched creature opens its mouth and lets out a deafening shriek. Tendrils scratch and tear as they work their way through my ear canals. The sharp discordant notes pierce my eardrums like jagged shards of glass. My covers flutter as I pull them over me. The candlelight flails frantically and the shadows rave.

The drumming of a heart reverberates throughout, gradually increasing in intensity. My temples throb with each thump as crimson magma courses wild and uncontrolled through my veins. With forehead damp with sweat, I lay completely submerged within my quilt. What am I to do now? That vile thing wishes to spirit me away! No, no, no! I will not let it. I must keep it out. The window, the cursed thing is still ajar! It needs to be shut. Clutching my chest in a futile attempt to calm the wild stampede inside, I pull off the comforter and will myself upright. The ruins that were once lithe and well-muscled legs tremble feebly as I slowly slide them off the bed. My feet hit the floor like wet rags and my bones rattle. The first step almost brings me to my knees but I manage to keep my balance. Fear and desperation propels me forward as I approach my destination. Upon arriving, I am struck by a nightmarish realization- the beast is nowhere to be seen. Outside, gnarled tree branches continue their somber waltz. I shut the window and turn to face the looming shadows that stretch out before me. My candle continues to burn, small and insignificant, amongst the all-encompassing pitch-black nothingness.