Sunday, 18 July 2010

Fox-Curse (a nuance)

I am sipping the drink. A bitter taste… one last cup of sorrow. I sit before the woman of flame. I see an oval face floating in front of me, surrounded by a halo of hair. Hair that is as red as dry autumn leaves. Her green eyes stare accusingly at me, those terrible eyes that burn with witch-fire. Vengeance will be hers. My sight is blurred and I descend into darkness before I know what is happening.

I awake. I open my eyes, and yet I see nothing. I open my mouth, and I gasp for air. I take a long sharp, drawn-out breath. Instinctively, I push out my hands, and hit something solid. A barrier, that is above me and around me. I am constrained. I try to move my feet, but I cannot. I am pressed into a tight, unyielding space of darkness.

I am trapped. With the comprehension of my state comes demonic panic. I scream for help, but I am running out of oxygen. It does not help. Already I am breathing in sharp, shallow gulps. I desperately thump the solid matter above and scratch until my fingers are raw.

I am lost.

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