Down Memory Lane

somebody-is-copyDarkness. Pulsating shadows of bright black everywhere. 

Something is wrong. Everything is wrong.

Burning. Burning. How can darkness be so hot? So blood-boiling hot. It hurts your lungs when you breathe it in. 

Flashes of afterimages on your scorched retinas.

Something crackling on your right. Shuffles… a slight movement, far to your left.

Monotonous moans, almost too low to make out.

And as your blood becomes vapor

your skin turns to dry paper

and starts curling inwards like an ancient scroll.

Down Memory Lane…

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