The Twisted Symphony

The darkness 

It engulfed her in a demonic plague.

It, and the foreboding silence.

Most would be afraid.  But not her.  For it was this darkness that put her at ease.

This darkness that was accustomed to her.  A darkness that she had grown used to.

This darkness was like a warm blanket of comfort that slipped over her shoulders in a Protective embrace.

The darkness 

It shrouded her in a cloak of opaque obscurity.

Her revealed flesh gnawed at by the restless frigidness of her closed space.

The closed space that was due past its capacity with just one occupier. 

Her slender limbs crossed about each other as her unseen locks could be felt on her skin.

Her locks falling in tangled heaps about her malnourished shoulder blades.

The darkness

It blinded her eyes in a shadowed perception.

Her eardrums shrieked in the silence.  The ringing becoming constant.

She untangled her limbs from herself, as her fingertips brushed to the stone foundation

Of the room.

Her fingernails dug into the stone, the tissues being rubbed raw as she enervated her form.

She dragged her feeble bones; feeling the stone tear her skin in a malicious caress.

Her flesh becoming moist with each attempt to move forward, the foul scent of rust drifting into her nostrils.

No help came.

She kept moving.

She no longer felt pain.

She was completely and utterly alone.

The darkness

It betrayed no mercy.  

Nor did it betray clemency towards her suffering.

The shadows danced across the walls, but she no longer believed they were there.

She questioned whether her eyes were open or closed at some times.

For her useless vision seemed to participate in corrupted taunts against her.

The loneliness gnawed at her mind.  Until she only feared herself.

This darkness had a way of corrupting her.

A passion of hatred lusted inside her heart as she questioned her reality. Questioned her Sanity.

She wanted to save herself.  

She wanted to save herself from she and she alone.

The darkness. 

The silence.

The aloneness.

She was accustomed to it. 

Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock

She lifted her feeble head, her mangled body pressed to the stone as she attempted to rest.

Her eardrums strained at the peculiar occurrence.

Tick Tock, Tick-Tock

She attempted to stand.  It had been so long.

Her eyes strained.