Manifestation of the Unknown

...its about Varne

A sense of time passing did not exist here, or at least did not matter, for there was only the Present--the now. Whatever happened before now surrendered to Amnesia, the very thing that devours memories and recycles to nothingness. Nothingness could not touch me for I was something, though I’m not sure what kind of something (and somethings contradict nothings). Nevertheless, something that needed to be guarded and protected; so, a something that was special and destined to survive. My domain was very small and limited in its sophistication; confining like a prison, and at times suffocating, but this is all one can call a home when he knows nothing of a world beyond. Every now and then the warm fleshy walls of the threshold come to life, moving and contracting around like the insides of some creature. Sometimes I could feel hundreds of hands pushing against the barriers to touch me, to prod my being with their tiny fingers. I can assume it’s out of curiosity, though there’s no real way of knowing for sure as I’ve yet to hear something speak out and tell me otherwise.

        I curled into fetal position, relaxing in the sheer warmth of this place, and for only a moment my mind descended into the blissful state of oblivion, a favorite pastime. Amnesia was at the heels of my being, if it couldn’t have me my memory of doing said pastime would serve its insatiable appetite. When stirring from the brief state of vegetation I noticed, and perhaps many times before and yet never remembered, an umbilical-like cord coming out of my chest one end and the other rooted into the fleshy wall. A wave of confusion and slight fear washed over me and the walls of the threshold began to quiver, reacting to the emotion. I ran a finger along so much of its length and felt a fleeting sensation that tickled. This stirred a profound curiosity in what was discovered--could this cord be the medium in which serves to provide my need to live? I proceeded to squeeze the cord until a new sensation excited terror as my beloved sanctuary turned into a constricting, asphyxiating prison; the walls crushing me under so much force I couldn’t breathe until releasing the cord, and just like that everything returned to a stable state I was so accustomed to. I was only half right, this place fed from me as I did it. I wondered what would happen if the cord were ever to be severed. For now I shall leave it alone.

***

A terrible scream startled me awake and I found myself being thrashed about like some helpless creature locked in the vicious jaws of a predator. There was a lot of curious scratching from the other side, something from the accursed Unknown trying to tear a hole right through the fleshy barrier. Another terrible scream, much worse than before, followed as mounds of flesh were pulled apart, leaving a rather large and bloody gap. I could only pray that by some miracle my sanctuary would raise its defense and keep whatever lurked beyond at bay. An otherworldly sound invaded the sanctuary, filling every crevice and deafened me momentarily before a silence finally swept over, but it wasn’t the calming sort of silence, more like the one when you know something else was going to happen.

A haunting sigh began a new horror and several voices followed, overlapping and creating the illusion of thousands speaking in whispers all at once, and then came the distant soft sounds of a woman weeping and gasping between her heavy sobs. Every single sound overlapped and intensified in volume; fear encored the symphony of horror, and the sounds inspired an apprehension for what dreadful things made them. The strange thing about all of this was that it was the sanctuary making these sounds, like it was dreading something--for good reason. I watched as black shadows slithered on in through the large gap and for the first time I feared for my life. There was nothing I could do as the black things formed hands and grabbed at the umbilical cord, tugging and squeezing at what connected me to life, though a shallow one at that. I started to gasp and choke, expecting the walls to close in and smother me, but the threshold was so weak from having a hole torn open that its only response was slight quivering. The hands tugged harder and I could feel the roots of the cord breaking away from my heart and the pain felt was tremendous; I couldn’t muster enough strength to scream from such agony. Then it finally happened, I fell into sweet, merciful oblivion.

Author's Note

...thoughts/suggestions, plz?

Reviews

[Beau-dee-loot]

As a more often than not exponent myself I would concur with 3rd Chance, the density of the prose can make one lose track, but still I like the clustered menace that such busyness creates - often giving a piece an interpretive vagueness more akin to a painting - and on my second reading I appreciated fully your portrayal of the separation of wholeness into cold aloneness, the mini-death of emergence from the comfortable darkness into this bright oblivion, the new terror world of birth.

[MoriartyMesa]

The imagery to me reminded me of a strange blend of HEAVY METAL and something that a nice trip of acid would bring about.


Nice

[Anubis]

This is amazing.
Love how dark and... twisted it is.
You have a rally intriguing style of writing. This is definitely going to the favourites.

[((Teenage_Poet_Loser))]

wow! wow! okay this hit me like somekind of bat to the head. Although most of the time i struggled to breath and keep my head above the water of your sweet and sour words, i loved every single piece of this... at the beginning i struggled to keep track but then i got to my feet... really intersting idea you had here... can make an awesome short story! well done :) ps.. it is very poetic that is awesome!

[3rd Chance]

Provoking verbal imagery casts the picture of an infantile maiden secured in a fleshy void swirling with dark inhibitions, dangling amidst mysterious 'umbilical cords' that hold her onto a dark, enigmatic existence. Vivid emotions are captured expertly and clutch the reader tightly, till the endpoint where darkness becomes claimant and oblivion follows. My main complaint is that the structure is too cluttered, and too messy - its a pet peeve of mine, that. Also, while this style of writing does promote excessive detailing - purple prose, it is called - there seems to be a tad too much of it going.

[L0v3craft]

Thank you so much for the review and the critique! I'll be sure to clean up the extensive details/descriptions-- one of my biggest flaws is writing extensively and "busily" ^-^;

I'll even have to work on the protagonist since its suppose to be male, not female...my bad if that's what you saw ^^;