10-20-2018, 03:03 PM
[align=center][div style="borderwidth; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 10pt;"]Reality or fantasy?
Fiction or nonfiction?
A line blurred from a young age with few days to differentiate between fact and fiction; a dream or an event taking place in the real world. A fog settled comfortably and causing speeding thoughts to derail and scatter for validation and recognition lest they become forgotten and devoured by the dense cloud hovering over a tired mind.
( Pearly whites fangs gnashing in a feverish manner, ripping through flesh—his flesh—and red stained white. gnawing and chewing and crunching— FEASTING. FEASTING ON HIM. PAIN! PANIC! No, no, no, no, nooo. Stop, please, stop. Cold. Numb. Nothing. But there's still the CRUNCHING and MUNCHING and suffocation. No air, no air. Teeth ripping out tendons and arteries, neck spasming– GUSHING. Lifeblood flowing freely. Crimson liquid painting sharp teeth and splattering across the green canvas surrounding him. NO AIR. )
Violent jerk of the head, body coating itself in sweat, and confusion swimming in the sea of a struggling consciousness. Dreamy eyes blinked rapidly before staring in the direction of the Sun, squinting as the bright rays filled his vision. Escape the all-too-familiar and disastrous yet oddly comforting fog that lazily draped itself over weary shoulders.
Focus.
Bare feet languidly traveled over cool grass and cast down eyes after they had enough of soaking in the sunshine, raking over his shadow again and again. Anything to keep the sleep, the nightmares, away. The three cups of coffee chugged down in the morning didn't help in the slightest and thought about throwing some hot or cold water in his face. (He knew better.)
Each step slow–too slow. Dragging. Nearly dragging yet not at the same time. Sluggish? Could he feel his feet? Was his feet even there? Is this another dream? He couldn't tell. Perhaps it was and any moment he'd be sliced in half, laying on the ground as guts littered the earth with empty screams that would soon fade into nothingness. Maybe the wolves are waiting, observing, stalking. Looking for the right moment to strike and rip him to shreds all over again, feasting on skin and bones, coating white teeth with red, gleaming eyes void and pitiless. Sleeping was hell.
The distant sound of voices capture the male's interest, enough so that the drowsiness clinging to his body momentarily released its grip. A voice rang in higher pitch, not in the bad sense, but only what he considered to be feminine. Somewhere rough in tone wise. Unapologetic and... uneducated? No, no. Childlike? It's the closest his mind could muster up on the spot and hummed at the familiar masculine tone of emptiness, yet managed to be good natured.
Eidottnawi, Eddie. Real. They're real. In the moment before his mind regressed back into its cloudy nature, the greek knew they were an actual person, not one of imagination. The days when the fog briefly lifted from his mind revealed them to be so. Yet the other... Blue eyes laced with brown around the pupil idly went over the small female, observing the unrealness of her appearance. A dream, a dream.
A delicate arm moved in the direction of the taller individual and— Jaw slacking and head drooping forward, his mind got slammed right back into the dream world. ( It was as if they took a pose for a painting. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Fluffy white wing sprouted behind the neat, clean white dress while the woman leaned forward as a strong hand took hers. Dark. Brooding. Nothing yet something interesting– ).
Head snapping up, Hypno brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing them before going on to rub his face all over. Introductions were made and blinked lazily at the female's words. Fern. Simple and pretty. A word he could repeat over and over until it tasted weird on the tongue. Ambling over, he smiled, warm and welcoming, as he came to stand beside Eddie. White shirt sticking to his back from breaking out into a sweat from the nightmare earlier, dark hair ruffled in a fashion to indicate he just rolled out of bed. (He did.)
"Welcome, Fern." Words roll of the tongue unhurried, laced with the constant tiredness. "Glad to have you. I'm Hypno."
Mission successful. He didn't fall asleep on her while talking.
Fiction or nonfiction?
A line blurred from a young age with few days to differentiate between fact and fiction; a dream or an event taking place in the real world. A fog settled comfortably and causing speeding thoughts to derail and scatter for validation and recognition lest they become forgotten and devoured by the dense cloud hovering over a tired mind.
( Pearly whites fangs gnashing in a feverish manner, ripping through flesh—his flesh—and red stained white. gnawing and chewing and crunching— FEASTING. FEASTING ON HIM. PAIN! PANIC! No, no, no, no, nooo. Stop, please, stop. Cold. Numb. Nothing. But there's still the CRUNCHING and MUNCHING and suffocation. No air, no air. Teeth ripping out tendons and arteries, neck spasming– GUSHING. Lifeblood flowing freely. Crimson liquid painting sharp teeth and splattering across the green canvas surrounding him. NO AIR. )
Violent jerk of the head, body coating itself in sweat, and confusion swimming in the sea of a struggling consciousness. Dreamy eyes blinked rapidly before staring in the direction of the Sun, squinting as the bright rays filled his vision. Escape the all-too-familiar and disastrous yet oddly comforting fog that lazily draped itself over weary shoulders.
Focus.
Bare feet languidly traveled over cool grass and cast down eyes after they had enough of soaking in the sunshine, raking over his shadow again and again. Anything to keep the sleep, the nightmares, away. The three cups of coffee chugged down in the morning didn't help in the slightest and thought about throwing some hot or cold water in his face. (He knew better.)
Each step slow–too slow. Dragging. Nearly dragging yet not at the same time. Sluggish? Could he feel his feet? Was his feet even there? Is this another dream? He couldn't tell. Perhaps it was and any moment he'd be sliced in half, laying on the ground as guts littered the earth with empty screams that would soon fade into nothingness. Maybe the wolves are waiting, observing, stalking. Looking for the right moment to strike and rip him to shreds all over again, feasting on skin and bones, coating white teeth with red, gleaming eyes void and pitiless. Sleeping was hell.
The distant sound of voices capture the male's interest, enough so that the drowsiness clinging to his body momentarily released its grip. A voice rang in higher pitch, not in the bad sense, but only what he considered to be feminine. Somewhere rough in tone wise. Unapologetic and... uneducated? No, no. Childlike? It's the closest his mind could muster up on the spot and hummed at the familiar masculine tone of emptiness, yet managed to be good natured.
Eidottnawi, Eddie. Real. They're real. In the moment before his mind regressed back into its cloudy nature, the greek knew they were an actual person, not one of imagination. The days when the fog briefly lifted from his mind revealed them to be so. Yet the other... Blue eyes laced with brown around the pupil idly went over the small female, observing the unrealness of her appearance. A dream, a dream.
A delicate arm moved in the direction of the taller individual and— Jaw slacking and head drooping forward, his mind got slammed right back into the dream world. ( It was as if they took a pose for a painting. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Fluffy white wing sprouted behind the neat, clean white dress while the woman leaned forward as a strong hand took hers. Dark. Brooding. Nothing yet something interesting– ).
Head snapping up, Hypno brought his hands to his eyes, rubbing them before going on to rub his face all over. Introductions were made and blinked lazily at the female's words. Fern. Simple and pretty. A word he could repeat over and over until it tasted weird on the tongue. Ambling over, he smiled, warm and welcoming, as he came to stand beside Eddie. White shirt sticking to his back from breaking out into a sweat from the nightmare earlier, dark hair ruffled in a fashion to indicate he just rolled out of bed. (He did.)
"Welcome, Fern." Words roll of the tongue unhurried, laced with the constant tiredness. "Glad to have you. I'm Hypno."
Mission successful. He didn't fall asleep on her while talking.
◜❛ ✭ ❜◞ -— BUT IT'S THE LAST TIME I BLOODIED MY HANDS
i'm living in vain, i never promised you a damn thing