Had I dared turn back I may never had come to taste the air of fall. Quite frankly I was truly tempted to, those halls had kept me safe for a while when on the run. I did want my cane back, I was rather fond of it. The thought of digging through moss and possibly feces changed my mind from that. I ran from those halls, those caves of darkness and danger, those things I could barely see until I found the safety of my bed. However, even from the safety of those warm blankets and soft pillows I was just as safe as a worm on a hook. As the sun fell from the sky I trembled, for the darkness would bring me back to that place of fear, yet sleep came easily. But sleep still brought me back to those corridors of isolation.
I seemingly woke up on cold stone, slightly damp. The place wasn't lit up, save for what seemed to be a candle in the distance. I searched for my cane, occasionally touching what felt like wet moss. I had found it against the wall, partially covered by rocks and some moss. When I stood up with my cane, I felt a strong wind hit me. A wind so strong I almost fell over, but as quick as it came it left, like the breath that came from my mouth. But the candle did not diminish, it kept strong as a wildfire. It was then that I had the stumbling curiosity to walk to it. For of an elderly man as I was at the whim of the wind, why wasn't the flame of a miniscule candle? With no haste I started to the candle, that which was bright but barely touched the wall with light. With each step I took I felt unease. The only sound I heard emitted from the wooden cane against the stone along with my footsteps. Then I heard the creaking, not that of wood but of bones. I dared not stop to think but it. I kept my pace until I reached the candle, which seemed oddly made. Its holder was brass, the candle itself was of thick wax. I picked it up to notice that there was passages on either side of me, hich would explain why the light didn't seem to be bright at all. It was then that I heard the creaking again, this time I could somewhat pinpoint the source. To the left I heard it, down the decrepit passage that left me as still as a tree. I heard it again, a creaking and struggling of what truly sounded like the bones of the undead. I took a step to the sound, but with the sound of my shoe against the wet stone the creaking stopped. I looked forward with the candle to try and see what was there. I took another step, knocking with my foot a box of matches. I bent over, setting my cane down to put the box in my pocket. Picking up my cane I pushed myself up to have my candle blown out. My cane between my arm and side, I pulled the box back out to relight the candle in panic. I dropped the first match, the second one went out before I could use it. The creaking came back, the struggling limbs of bone that seemed to come from everywhere around me as I myself struggled to light the candle with the third match, with what I succeeded to light the candle with. The light came and with it I saw nothing, yet the creaking continued. From behind me I heard it, accompanied by the breathing of the damned. Although I knew that turning around could be my end, I did to spite myself and my fear. The monstrosity that befell my senses was of nightmares. It's face was that of a skull, but the bone appeared to be of flesh and not marrow, it pulsed and flickered by itself. A pair of orange bulbs were in its sockets, bright and with pupils as black as coal. Its teeth were sharp and jaggedly jutted in all directions with no order, a tongue like that of a snake protruded from its mouth, all of which concocted the most dreadful scent. A black, ink like substance made the shape of a serpents body for the creature. Again the wind came, but this time the candle died. The last thing I saw was its eyes, the fire that burned from the center of that coal, that burned into mine for the few seconds that I stood flabbergasted in the dark. Once I came to my senses I dropped everything and ran, ran until I thought I was safe, and even then I ran. It wasn't till I tripped that I knew the thing was behind me, and that it'd always be behind me. Again its eyes pierced my heart, pierced my soul. The last thing I remember before waking up was those eyes, the eyes of the damned, the eyes that reflected my soul before I woke to my bedroom. Although I knew that was a dream, it reflected the previous day. Never will I forget the eyes of damned, in those corridors of isolation.
