Gray Valley

by Blue_Notebook

Wide and haunting, the dead land spread in front of me. Obscure it is, with its pallor a killer to the breath I hold. There the valley rests, lifeless and taunting.

Eyes open and pained, it stares right into my own. Then started the vision, blinding not only I but also the lying truth I have trusted for years in vain of forgetting the fact that it is, indeed, an errant truth made by the serpents. In its hollow orbs, I wandered, letting myself get lost on its wilderness. What I didn’t expect is the tincture of the aura it produces. Crimson is the only scent that I can smell, metallic and convoluted to a touch of my perception. As if I am nought but trapped inside the tempest of its depression, pulling me in an endless gyration down to the recesses of its abyss, of its own grave that will soon also carve my name in its depth. Supercilious is its emotion, like a lion circling me over and over again, provoking the scant intention within me to lash out and vaunt about its wounded greatness.

But such is the only first scene I’ve told you about. Lift your lips and put them back down again as a sign of respect to the rhythm of the insane below us, here, in the second vision the mighty dying have allowed us to arrest. Aeons have passed by and this is but the very first of the time that I have come to witness the spurious recreants of this land. The tales, I can now approve of, are real. There below, the useless beasts crawl, growling and gagging on their own powerless power that threatens to never be satiated by the terror they cause to the birds above them. Jealousy reigns within their violet minds— half are their brains for it is told that they need not the other half for reasoning— as they utter words and hear words which they, in their profusion of iniquity, couldn’t bear to understand. Laughs should’ve filled my lungs at this very moment, but the fire has already replaced them, the very fire which I have fanned to apotheosis. Reaching down to take one of these small worms is divested of my capabilities, saving them from the danger my presence could cause.

As if I was swiped to another reality, the whole scenario before me began to spin in a vertical motion, transcending the very speed of time and of the universe. The phantasmagoric event came to a halt and I was delivered to a place rid of solitude. I must say, that the air here is already devoured by a stronger sense of negativity, boiling to the point of exploding. But fear comes not to me no matter how hard I try to summon it, as if I am being drowned by the darkness around me, dissipating every colour that I own before I was lured here by the ostentatious valley. My body, indeed, became one with the obscurity of this place, my eyes forced to watch the folly before me.

Three small monsters stand in a crooked stance before me. Bodies decaying and full of maggots, the flesh from it melting, dropping to the eternal abyss underneath our feet. Their eyes are missing, carved out of their bloodied sockets, replaced by the starving worms balled by fat to fit correctly in those holes as they eat the remnants of life away from them. And just like those I’ve mentioned in the tales, they, too, bears just a half portion of their brains, which, in their current situation, sticks out of their opened skulls filled too with the worms of their memories. Such is a horror to behold and yet, know that their teeth are not sharp but resembles that of a human’s. Black, they are in colour with pus flooding out from the gums which they are protruded from. Perhaps, that pus became their saliva for the moment they gnarled and their decaying mouths opened, strings of pus were seen by my eyes, along with their string-like tongues united by a violet colour.

With their skeletal proboscises, they sniffed for a scent unfamiliar to their owns’. Mine was discovered perhaps, but why is that that this darkness is ensuring me that I should fear not further discovery, for I am secured by my own bleakness. Yet these beings are importunate to their course, nearing me as they continue their ill-fated search. Then one of them came as close as to breathe such sulphuric stench right in front of my face, growling as it hopelessly left for it found naught but its hunger and idiocy staring back at its empty eyes. The others did the same and I was just standing here, unnerved by their presence. Not until I began to take a form unbeknownst to my erudition. My transformation is excruciating, making me end up howling in pain and them riveting their heads to my direction. The real haunting is just yet to be witnessed as they, like hyenas, ran in a pace fuelled by anger and faux belief in their titles towards me. At their very last step, the unknown I stood and growled, my hands near their throats with my nails as sharp as the vane I name as my friend.

In my utmost disappointment, I get not to scratch them for from such delusion I woke, the black sky glaring at me. But I am void of breathing, of a heart beating, of emotions, of life. How? How did I once again dreamt of the world I have abandoned? I, the valley grey, have once again been haunted by the life I have ended as I watch my second home shatter in a billion pieces before me.


Author’s Note: Credits to the owner of the picture used.


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