Prologue to a Book I'll never Write
"Midway through the journey of my life I found myself in a dark wood."
-Dante Alligheri
The Inferno
Canto I
He knew of course the nightmares would return: that this was just a temperary reprive from his horror. He knew he could never leave behind what he once was: what his past wouldn't let him overcome. He knew all this, yet still, he held hope for the future- he had to, there was no other option.
Within the darkness of his bedchamber, he awoke in a cold sweat, the night air cool upon his damp forehead. Stillness and silence thickened the concotion of vacancy around him, seeping into every pour: infecting, tainting, and soiling it. He cast his disenchanted eyes towards the abyss of heaven; all that stared back was the black nothing with the scraping of a dirty fan blade audible through the shroud of absence.
He rose-red, swollen eyes then shifted their glance over to his right, where the ruby light from his alarm clock reflected like fire in his pupils. The incessent numbers ticked forward another minute: 4:33 am. He had school the next day, and 7:00 am seemed awfully, dreadfully close. Still, though they burned brilliantly, he could not bear to bring himself to close his eyes once more for fear of those awful images: a red and green bowl, a young man's face twisted with lustful passion, a helpless girl silently crying. He shuddered in his bed from these awful thoughts and quietly pulled his vanilla blanket around him and wept- hard sobs convulsing his body into the fetal position.
The electric scream of an alarm woke him, ripping him from his nightmaring imaginations. Exhausted, he left for school while the cold sun's rays were still liquid gold; hanging in the sky and befuddling its spectators. Barely in time for the first class, he hastily parked his car crooked and dashed off just as the metel clang of the bell sounded.
-fin
-Dante Alligheri
The Inferno
Canto I
He knew of course the nightmares would return: that this was just a temperary reprive from his horror. He knew he could never leave behind what he once was: what his past wouldn't let him overcome. He knew all this, yet still, he held hope for the future- he had to, there was no other option.
Within the darkness of his bedchamber, he awoke in a cold sweat, the night air cool upon his damp forehead. Stillness and silence thickened the concotion of vacancy around him, seeping into every pour: infecting, tainting, and soiling it. He cast his disenchanted eyes towards the abyss of heaven; all that stared back was the black nothing with the scraping of a dirty fan blade audible through the shroud of absence.
He rose-red, swollen eyes then shifted their glance over to his right, where the ruby light from his alarm clock reflected like fire in his pupils. The incessent numbers ticked forward another minute: 4:33 am. He had school the next day, and 7:00 am seemed awfully, dreadfully close. Still, though they burned brilliantly, he could not bear to bring himself to close his eyes once more for fear of those awful images: a red and green bowl, a young man's face twisted with lustful passion, a helpless girl silently crying. He shuddered in his bed from these awful thoughts and quietly pulled his vanilla blanket around him and wept- hard sobs convulsing his body into the fetal position.
The electric scream of an alarm woke him, ripping him from his nightmaring imaginations. Exhausted, he left for school while the cold sun's rays were still liquid gold; hanging in the sky and befuddling its spectators. Barely in time for the first class, he hastily parked his car crooked and dashed off just as the metel clang of the bell sounded.
-fin