The Wrong Journey

I was in a deep slumber when I woke up to the sight of a beautiful surrounding I seem to be standing at, no words could describe the colors that aren’t known to us, logically I went on a journey to explore this place, the buildings or houses were made from the very roots that sprouted from the ground itself, they were immense, the sky had a peach color tone and the breeze smelled of lavender. Such beauty, but usually beauty has a monstrous, hideous and terrifying side, that is yet unknown to me at this point, I thought “hey, I’ll walk inside that house and see how it is inside”.

Once inside, there was a great silence, the only thing to be heard were my slight footsteps as I cautiously walked around and a fireplace somewhere in there. The furniture was beautifully crafted with an unknown hard wood, I slid my fingertips on a shelf the contained strange figurines, one of them caught my attention, it’s appearance was odd, I found its origin to be of a very creative mind yet disturbing. It was a body with no head, arms and legs resting on the ground of the shelf, simulating a spider pose.

Many hours has passed and nobody else or nothing else in this world has come into this house, I am getting hungry and I start thinking of taking a look and find what would be fridge in this world, I heard a thump as I try to get up from this chair I was resting on, my heartbeat started racing as I was thinking “the owner might be here and I don’t know who or what it could be, I don’t know anything of this world” the thumping sounds kept
increasing as my head felt it was spinning, headache, drowsy and slowly falling onto ground.

I feel that I opened my eyes but everything is completely dark, I still hear the thumping sounds, but this time there was a faint prayer of many voices and sobbing. Now I felt more scared than ever because I realized I had been buried alive, I start screaming and kicking the coffin from inside, I know nobody can be able to hear me, and if they did, they would think their minds are imagining my desperate screams for help because they are grieving for me.

All I could think was “I must keep fighting, hitting, kicking and screaming until my last breathe, even though I know I am already a dead man”.


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