Secular Romance Pt. 3

29 Sep

               He lays flat on his back upon the cold stone. A million silver cars fly past him on either side of the road. Dangling high overhead, a dream catcher glares down at him, almost daring him to ask for help. His stomach feels as hollow and empty as the cavity forming in his chest.

               He finds himself tumbling along behind the many passing cars, until finally landing abruptly and brutally among the rest of the litter. Devoid of a dream to chase, he cries out to no one, and turns inward. A million trap doors and hidden corridors, he searches everywhere… everything. A solid black door, lies before him. His eyes move to the crimson steel door handle, he reaches out and grasps it. Slowly turned and even slower pulled, the door breaks open and a wave of silence crashes through him.

               Within two women lay writhing on the floor, one could either assume in pain or pleasure. A box, featuring the shape of a serpent painted upon the top, lies in the middle of the room. He takes a step towards the box, and the woman lying on the right side of the room, breaks the silence with a bloodthirsty scream. The woman on the left responds in kind. Shaken, but by no means stopped, he crosses the distance to the box. Both women go silent, before soft pleading begins… no… please don’t… it will kill us… please no… you said you loved us. He had come to far, so many years, no one could have stayed his hand.

               The lid comes off, he sees a passing vision in his mind… the garden… Adam standing beside Eve… the serpent, forked tongue flicking… the corruption… his corruption… his redemption… his damnation… his domination… his instinctual regression. He is the left fork upon the serpents lying tongue, he is the beast, he is the pain.

               Jonathan gasps himself awake. Breathing ragged he grabs a cigarette and heads for the door to his patio. The damn shrink had said the Trazadone would stop the nightmares. Instead they had just seemed to gain in intensity and go on for longer. He flicks his butt and spits and heads inside. Upon sitting down on his bed, he finds himself once again staring at the mural painted on his wall. The woman on the right, the first to scream when he had started for the box, she stares at him from the wall, depicted here as a little girl. Sighing, he again reminds himself it’s all in his head. The house is only haunted by the humans that inhabit it. Jonathan was beginning to doubt several things, however, his sanity foremost among them.


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Posted by on September 29, 2013 in Small Tales


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