But Nothing Happens

I wandered towards my front door, my mother stiffly waving goodbye, a stern smile on her face, which was unusual, different from her happy-go-lucky self.

As soon as my hard, black leather school shoes hit the floor, it was as if I'd hit a play button, for everything beyond the old and chipped white doorframe seemed to freeze in time. Leaves stopped falling in mid-air. Children's excited, joyful smiles were now rigid grins, looking as if they could crumble apart into a million pieces.
But nothing happens

I took a trembling, paranoid step into the outside world, bewildered by what happening before my eyes, or rather what wasn't. The remote landscape sent chills throughout my body.

Nothing moved, but I felt a presence behind me, shifting the air slightly with every move; I didn't dare look back, terrified of what could be lurking behind me.

I keep walking, my steps steady, faster by the minute, the world in my head spinning, even though it was completely steady. I tried to scream, but it's hard to scream without a voice. I wished to cry for help, for someone to hear me, but I can't, I have to wait for someone to see me trying.

Eerie voices echoed in the background, some sounded like children's cries for help, some were hummed, old-fashioned nursery rhymes, as if played on a never-ending loop. Screeches of pain and high-pitched chuckles of mischief coming form every direction. The haunting shuffle of a stranger's feet, filling my head with images of the unknown. The voices echoed, and echoed, and echoed, making me feel abnormally ill. My symptom was madness, caused by the music in my head, sung by an endless choir, called "The Voice of The Dead"

Fright. Horror. Fear is a mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
Light travels fast, but darkness is already there, waiting for it. I fear not the dark itself, but what may lurk within it, for now the mundane sight of a town at dawn turned into pure darkness, and the more you stare into the darkness, the more you can see someone staring right back at you.

I ran, trying to escape from my own hell, for it was not Wonderland and I wasn't Alice. Ghastly figures appeared amongst the nothingness, soulless bodies that were once full of life, now consumed by their own wrongs.

I tried, I put what was left of my broken crimson soul into it. But as I looked back, I saw myself, mascara smudging down my pale, flushed cheeks, laying in a pool of my own blood, my last thoughts being:

"I'm sorry if instead of hurting myself the way I used to, I am hurting you instead"

I came to a halt. I gave up. I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.

I can't be normal, when I'm everything but.

I can't pretend, that I don't want to go back to the times when I didn't feel.