sick.

falling..

and falling deeper into the torrid blackness.

Light seems to be a distant memory.

Voices start to call out the names.

Voices soon grew into chants.

And the chants soon grew into disembodied screams.

stop.

Stands up.

But sees nothing except the endless void.

Soon it crumbles.

And it falls under the feet.

Screams seem to fade, muffled.

Writhing hands seem to feel.

Images start to project across the mind.

A pair of red eyes bore into the very hem of the spirit.

All in shattered

A shell that is left.