Aether Storm

Why does it stay here? Why does it sit there so menacingly? with it's twisted features; Its oblong head and grotesque body. Sits there with it's spiraling limbs, twisting forever in circles. Why do I sit here, staring back? Why can I not compel myself to move.
"Movement Is inevitable, you poor creature." it's dark humored, ragged throat spats unenthusiastically. "I've done this so many times, I'm starting to lose the steps," He leans directly into my face, "Maybe this'll help." as I am pushed through my chains and chair, through the ground, smoke and fire surrounding my bedraggled form. This monster was done with his plaything, his item, his slave. I was never told the finishing would be so painful. Now that I was done physically, I would join the aether storm. I would be torn to pieces, slowly crumbling, melting, boiling, shredding. The very essence of my soul and mind burnt for an eternity longer than time itself. I would fuel the dark causes of those in this world, or maybe the next. All i knew was the very violent pain of mashing, destroying, suffocating, drowning. I could feel mind soul leaving, my shielding against this pain slowly slipping away from me, until all I felt was the burning, plowing, killing, crashing pain. Then I was back In a chair, sitting across from someone else. I looked to my form and saw the twisting, ever-spiraling, arms. "Movement is inevitable, you poor creature."