Mated to Morpheus

MTM.50

you found me

My legs were fumbling with each step that I took, knees clunking together and both feet forgetting which is the right one. As fast as I could, I ran through the open field with not a single look back. Although there was a sinister cackle coming from behind me, there seemed to be thousands of other noises seeping in through the surrounding obstacles.

A vast forestry—gangling trees of birch and oak, trampled wildflowers, compressed moss, and blooming lichen—that seemed to breathe on its own. Bestrewn throughout the ground, mangled, damp dirt tried to feed off my body, sucking on pieces of exposed skin. The sickly wetness slithered up my legs, yet that was just barely the beginning. There were red-rimmed, rheumy eyes guzzling down every single maneuver of my frantic form. And, they were both increasing and approaching at a frightening speed.

The palm of my left hand latched onto my injured ear, feeling the blood throb against my skin. The trauma was locked in, but it did not stop the trail of various reds from seeping through. The ache writhed underneath my touch, thrashing as I tried to feel out where the affliction began and where it finally ended.

The majority of the helix was gone—completely teared off, along with some of the fossa and scapha.

There were several trails of tears rolling down my cheeks, caking and staining the dull heat of pressure that was circulating within the blood vessels of my face. I was panting heavily. My legs were sprinting using the maximum energy that I could possibly muster at a time, but the upper portion of my body seemed to be falling behind as my arms were swinging wildly. There was barely any control left, and I was conducting on pure instinct, instead.

A blubber of spit coated my lips like a sticky gloss. I let out another sob when a twig crackled underneath my foot, my ankle twisting painfully under the fluctuating weight. I hit the ground with a mushy landing, disappearing into a pulp of organic matter, my ear stinging as the grime cleaned the open cut.

Tossing and turning, I rolled my shoulders until they rested on the solid ground. The ongoing, shallow cry that had been long boiling in my lungs quickly racked my whole body—frustrated with the ringing in my ear, the bitter taste of soil in my mouth, the exhaust coating my legs, and the sticks that were poking into the soles of my feet. The back of my hands violently rubbed at my lips, wiping off slobber and filth alike. My knees buckled as I tried to stand back up, my vision raw and my movements weak, but I was luckily able to plant myself on all fours.

My stomach hurled violently when I realized the full extent of the situation. My eyes widened naturally at the sight. Just in front of me, squirming within the gut of the forest, was a figure that often appeared in my nightmares.

And, materializes in a forest, like this one.

The vicious, undefined being, the starved vampire. There was nothing left of their anatomy, their flesh was fragmented into a peeling sunburn and their nervous system was twitching with an infection.

Through the cautious squint of my eyes, while hoping and praying that my vision was scheming against me, their hollow cheeks were illuminated under the withering sunset. It was definitely not morning at Lyonechka's manor now. Their jaw unhinged, clacking ever so slightly as they leaned their neck to the side and a sloshing of liquid dribbled out to run down their chin. Their deteriorated nose wiggled as they breathed in a long, predatory aroma. Their eyes, which were long drained of humanity and had sunken deep into their skull, trembled as they flickered about.