I am trapped in the own moveless carcass of my apparently deceased body. But I breath….. I breath and it makes it more horrible, because I know that is better to be dead and to not feel a thing than to be half awake and suffer all the horrors that comes with it.
I move my eyes and I notice that I’m still in my room. My «Noise and Resistance» DIY Punk poster still hangs on the blue wall near me and the sun lights my room. There would be nothing to worry about, if it wasn’t that my limbs weight a thousand tons and it is almost impossible to move them. What on earth is going on?!? – is the first thing that I blabber. My lips are lead fucking heavy. I’m able to move my eye lids, but it demands me a huge effort, since they are also too heavy.
Suddenly, the window opens and I hear tiny footsteps hitting the wooden floor.
It must be Lady – I guess
But the presence in these four walls is not that of a small female beagle. It feels so different. My sixth sense, if I even have one, perceives something evil, extremely evil.
Laughter.
A demented chuckling bursts in the room. It’s sick and deranged. It’s the laughter of a psychotic predator about to snuff the life out of someone. And that someone turns to be… me.
I can’t scream and although I force myself to do it, I only achieve to pant hopelessly. My cry is mute. Meanwhile I feel a ghostly demon-like ghoul slowly taking over my body, and slowly extinguishing my life.
I cry, I cry, and I cry.
But no one will ever hear me, except myself and the unknown laughing evil being that’s slowly killing me.
I’m about to die and to perish forever, and my inner self twists itself pathetically with the upcoming death.
I wake up.
I’m in the same room with the same poster and the same sun lighting my chamber. But I’m not dead, and I also realize that that was not a fucking dream either.
It was a fleshed-out nightmare.
Raúl «Radwulf» A. Valero Chávez
08/01/2017
