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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2233093-Whispers-in-The-Void
by Lusho
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Dark · #2233093
This is a fictional story about fear. An endless occurrence of the same nightmare.


It is night time and she starts to hear it again.

The same loud noise, the noise of silence, the noise of warning, disaster at it again. Someone or something is screaming outside the cabinet.

It's 3 O' clock in the morning and this happens every day. The same fear, the same terror, the same kind of shiver that cracks your spine open and exposes your weaknesses to the outside world.

The lamp suddenly goes on at the command of her finger, the finger that gives way and will to what her mind desires.

She has this driving force telling her to go down the stairs...

Whispers; "go outside, go outside, check out the truths of the unseen."

Her mind lays soft and calm in her bed but her body is standing restless, she is wavering in distraught with her pretty bruised knees hoarded in the grass.

She has this spade that kills life and brings back to earth things that died long ago.

Resurrection? Well, not that of life but the life that died away a long time ago, just resurfacing to the eyes of those who forgot them.

She is so confused

"Why is my body here? Why am I not waking up from this bad dream?"

She starts to panic and the hunger of being saved transports itself knowing that, just like every other day, nobody can save her.

Her mind can feel the comfort warmth of her bed upstairs but her body is now holding something cold, something that could be dangerous....oh yes, "I know what it is" she slurrily mumbles the words to herself.

A spade for the earth that has not been unearthed. It has been abandoned and all it does is rust through the desires of Mother Nature.

Though the spade seems to go harsh down the ground, as she starts to dig, "what is she digging for" no one knows, but her hands won't stop ripping off the abandoned earth covered in beautiful weed and grass that seem to quench with thirst. Every minute it lacks water, the colour of life seems to fade away, from the happy GREEN of life, to having each letter disappear because the earth cannot sing as happy anymore. It withers in the harsh torment of life.

She continues to dig, as her palms bleed sadness and helplessness. She tries to let go but he spade aggressively strangles itself around her fingers, almost as if they were destined to live as one. She bleeds blood, sweat and tears. Her body devoured by the nightmare. A thread of one repeated nightmare looping its horrors around her life. A life with no awakening.



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