The Last Journal of xXSykla

The braking Point

I woke up today feeling different—an unsettling energy crackling through the air, a sense of foreboding that settled heavily on my chest. The night had been filled with dreams—nightmares that felt far too real. I remember fragments of shadowy figures closing in around me, their whispers a cacophony of despair that echoed in my mind. I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, heart racing as I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

Determined to take control, I forced myself to step outside. The world felt different, almost charged, as if it were holding its breath. I ventured into the forest again, hoping to find clarity, to uncover the truth behind the whispers that gnawed at my mind. But as I walked, I felt a sense of dread building within me. The shadows seemed to stretch and warp, distorting the world around me. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig made my skin crawl.

I stumbled upon a small pond, its surface reflecting the sky like a mirror. As I knelt to drink, I caught sight of my reflection, and it terrified me. My eyes were hollow, dark circles framing a gaze that spoke of fear and desperation. I hardly recognized myself. The girl staring back at me was a mere shadow of who I once was. I splashed water on my face, trying to shake off the fog clouding my mind.

But the pond seemed to amplify my fear. I could see flickers of movement beneath the surface, dark shapes shifting just out of reach. I pulled back, heart pounding as I fought the urge to scream. I thought I saw a hand reaching up, grasping for something just beyond my reach, and for a moment, I felt a connection, a shared desperation. What if there were others trapped like me, yearning for freedom?

I spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly, consumed by the unsettling feeling that something was closing in around me. Every glance over my shoulder revealed only the forest, but I felt the presence of something darker lurking just out of sight. As the sun began to set, I made my way back to my shelter, and that’s when I saw it—symbols carved into the trees surrounding my home, deep gouges that spoke of something ancient, something powerful.

Panic gripped me. I felt trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape. The whispers surged again, drowning out my thoughts, filling my mind with chaos. I stumbled back into my shelter, heart racing as I pressed my back against the wall, trying to block out the encroaching darkness. The shadows danced just outside, teasing me, beckoning me to step into their embrace. I could feel my sanity fraying, unraveling like a thread pulled too tight.

In a moment of sheer desperation, I began to write. I poured my fear onto the pages of this journal, hoping that somehow, capturing my thoughts would anchor me to reality. I scribbled furiously, each word a lifeline in the turbulent sea of my mind. But with every stroke of the pen, I could feel the whispers growing louder, more insistent, as if the very act of writing was inviting them in.

As I write this, I’m terrified. Terrified of what I might become

- I don't know how I will continue

~ 558 words