a continuation to “Homecoming – The forest”
…Walking through this thick mist again. The one that suffocates me. The one that seems to draw out every bit of energy I had left in my body. The one that makes me struggle every step I take forward. The one that surrounded my wife yet again. The one that every night since the war has slowly driven me closer to the edge.
Each step I take is as if the devil itself was reaching up from the abysm and clenched tightly to my ankles. It’s always the same, she’s tied up I’m chains to the ground,… Her voice has been stolen by the shadow again. It is guarding her as always, it’s lurking around her, it’s torturing me with the sight of her deep suffering. It won’t let me save her, it won’t let me look away. It always forces me to watch as it slowly breaks her apart piece by piece.
A shadow with no shape, a shape with no shadow.
Right before I can finally reach her, regardless of how late, this being walks away in laughter… Right before I’m close enough to touch her hand one last time…
That dream once again, I grow tired of the same shit. I see no point in being frightened anymore, I have grown accustomed to this nightmare. It’s almost the one thing that allows me to remember her blue eyes again…
Huh… This fog doesn’t seem to give in to the light. It’s persistent as if its purpose is to blind all living creatures that find themselves lost on it… At least I can see farther than 3 feet from me… That’s a start.
No birds… Their chants have been stolen from this place, there is no living sound that gives life to this place. Ah, I still don’t understand why it isn’t cold… Yet it doesn’t feel warm. My skin is cold like a corpse… But I’m sure my hearts still beating.
- what is this place, I whisper through my teeth in hopes an abstract sense of hope will come up with an answer, but really all it has accomplished is helping me realize I am alone.
sigh… why is the compass still not work-
What is that…? Considering the amount of fog and how dense it is, seeing light reflect and make an object shine through it is important… Of course I would not have noticed it last night… also, considering how the only thing I can see besides what few trunks I can see around me and what little branches and dead leaves I step on, this shiny object is the closest thing I have to a heading right now.
Wright…
It’s his wedge, the RAF sign was what reflected the light… But it’s covered in blood… No. It’s soaked in it, and by the looks of it it’s quite fresh. No more than two hours old… But where is Wright… And what is that stenc-
fucking… Bastards…
There he was… And by the look on his tortured eyes he died something far from a peaceful death… His legs were sliced enough to reach the lesser arteries to not only impede him from walking, but also make sure that he slowly bleeds to death. It’s as if the bastards had enjoyed watching him crawl to his last breat-
what is that?
I hear someone coming through the fog and trees, the chains are coming.
continued on Homecoming – The Chains
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