Void

A Poem by Eric Vienneau

Nonsensicle nightmares. An experiment with thrill, and horror.

A man was coming around the corner,
where the dark seemed to meet to make a dark line like a wall,
His footsteps echoed off of nothing,
everything was dark.
All he could see was dull colours produced by his own imagination.
Psychedelic reds and brown, a flash of purple,
coating the ends of his field of vision.
What vision.
Stimulated by nothing,
he sat on nothing,
he didn't even stand on anything.
His feet hung below him with his toes pointed downward,
or upward,
or sideways,
he couldn't tell.
An intense pressure circulated through his body.
like blood rushing,
first his head,
the colours grew more vibrant and nauseating,
then it faded and his side hurt.
It went to his feet and then to his other side,
it stopped suddenly.
The rotating had finished.
He tried to talk but nothing came out,
It rose up his throat to the back of his mouth then stopped,
as if sound was not permitted.
He stretched his neck and stuck his tongue out yelling but nothing came.
Though he made no noise, his throat started to hurt as if he were.
The footsteps weren't stopping.
He felt like they were coming from around the corner,
Or behind him,
Each thud came from every which direction,
even below and above him.
He shuddered when he heard it above him,
a gentle breath tickled his neck,
He tried to get away but he couldn't move.
The breathe coming,
growing warmer and warmer until it became hot,
burning his neck and he sweat,
feeling like he wanted to yell but he couldn't do anything.

Then, he woke up.
The sun was large behind the clouds.
His room was bright and dusty.
The sweat was cold and uncomfortable on his back.