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what happens to those who do not wake?

I walked down a road, it was dark for some reason, very dark. The path was somehow illuminated and there were still people out at this hour.

I didn’t know what to do so I just kept walking.

There was a man in a black coat that walked with a cane. He was slow, unbearably so. I went up to him, I didn’t know why, but I just did. The man’s image seemed to blur in and out of focus and I felt a warm trail trickle down from my nose and eyes.

The man’s appearance settled in focus, he was hunched, a tall hat hid his face from me. I wanted to get closer, the pain in my head screamed to run, but I approached anyway.

The man was muttering, chanting, something? I had to strain my ears to understand what he was saying.

“Kill them, kill them, kill them, kill them, kill them, you have to kill them.”

“You know what they did, you have to kill them.”

“Kill them, kill them, kill them, kill them, kill them, you have to kill them.”

The man stopped his chant and looked up at me. he had no eyes. in the empty sockets I stared, the darkness within was far greater than any other I had seen. The darkness wasn’t pure, there was something else within, slivers of silver that bound something bright.

I opened my eyes wider to see more and more of the warmth flooded out and fell to the floor. Even as the crimson coated my boots I continued to look. My brain hurt, my fingers itched, every inch of my body twitched, my teeth ached.

The bound figure had six… no, seven? The more wings I saw the more pain I felt. There were six black wings on one side that stood out within the darkness, they, they were pure darkness. On the right lifting up were six white wings that illuminated the figure, each one bound in the silver in a web that shimmered like a spider’s web wet with the morning dew.

The figure’s eyes were shut, and it had its head was pointing down in the direction of its black wings. even with all the strands that bound it, the figure could move, its head turned up to look at mine, it’s eyes still closed.

The figure smiled, it was a gentle toothy smile, but it had no teeth. The scarred gums spoke tales of what once was there, but the figure didn’t stop moving. Slowly its eyes opened. Within was another set of empty sockets, or not, there was something within them.

“You know what they did!”

Before I could ascertain what was within those eyes the man spoke again, and I saw his hunched form replace the figure.

“You know what they did!”

“You know what they did!”

The man’s words echoed in my mind and my eyes shot open.

I found myself in my bed, the stifling walls of the manor separating me from freedom. I brought my hand to my face, and I felt something I wished I hadn’t. my breath grew unsteady, and I crawled out of bed.

Stumbling to my feet I took off in the direction of the mirror. I didn’t make it. my arms took the impact, but I continued on anyway, crawling. My legs moved faster than my arms and I turned on my side again and again as I tried to pass the short chasm between my bed and the mirror.

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I arrived at the mirror, my head shot up soon followed by my hand. There was a trail of blood flowing from my nostrils down my face. The trail oof blood continued down my neck and frantically I looked into my own eyes. it was dark, far too dark to even see, but there was no blood.

I sat there just staring at my face, nothing else, just staring. When my eyes finally departed from the mirror my head shot around to my bad. I couldn’t see above the sheets.

Slowly I used my arms lifting myself back to my feet. My head ratcheted over to the place where my head was, my wide eyes took in the sight.

There was a pool of dried blood under where my head had been. I raised my hand to the trail from my nose, I then brought my hand to the back of my head. The crunch that came was an unpleasant confirmation, but I just stood there.

Even if I had stopped, my body had not. I felt something rising within my throat, it was warm. The feeling was like phlegm, but far more unpleasant, it tasted like iron too.

As what I thought to be some sort of liquid continued to rise, I opened my mouth. It was not of my own volition, my body just did so, and I quickly found out why.

“augh, huagh”

first came unease, then came release as the crimson mass exited me.

what was now sitting comfortably on my carpet was a congealed glob of deep red. whatever the mass was, whether a mix of snot, saliva and blood, or just a spare organ the wetness was unsettling.

I reached down to touch the crimson blob. The substance was viscous enough to pick up, but it was too heavy to stay together. I had to use one hand to pull it onto the other. There was now a crimson mark on my floor and a far darker and wetter blob in my hand.

I stared at the blob, my eyes wide.

“Fuck.”

If that wasn’t a great way to start the day already what came after was far more punishing. Secretly I had to clean blood out of my floor and sheets. I had no idea how to do that and so I came up with a solution. Burn down the manor, no one needs to know that I have been visited by a demon.

I knew I couldn’t do such a thing, but it was tempting. Instead, I found a small worn jewellery box from when I had such things and placed the blob within. After cleaning my hands, I picked up my faded red rug and placed it atop the fresh red mark.

When it came to my bedding I tried scratching at the dried blood, surprisingly enough it worked. The blood came off easily, but the result was fine red powder that I had to add to the box. There were some patches of red that I could not get out, but for some reason my blood seemed to not be dyed the sheets. Blood didn’t dry fast enough for that to happen… at least not that I knew of.

I finally scratched the dried blood off myself and added it to the box. I then went for a wash, leaving the jewellery box on my desk. I knew no one would come into my room unless absolutely necessary, but I hoped. Some sick part of me knew that a servant that entered my room would surely open the box.

At best I could get my own servants in the annex by calling it a prank. At worst all my effort goes for naught, and people say I have been visited by a demon. I knew not of a demon that gave blood when it visited, but then again, I didn’t know what demons actually were.

Once I was enveloped by the warm water of the bath I wondered.

“What the fuck just happened.”

I did not intend it to, but my wondering happened to start aloud.

It might have been a dream; it could have been reality. There was a man, he had no eyes, within his eyes was darkness.

My brows furrowed; I felt like there was something more. The darkness seemed impure, I remembered that much, but what could I be missing. I feel like it had something to do with spiders, it was spiders and a mannequin. What those two were doing inside a man’s eye sockets and how they caused my nose to bleed were beyond me.

“You know what they did.”

I mulled over the phrase. I didn’t know what it was talking about, did they do something to the man, or me. who even were ‘they’. My mind was firing blanks and I nearly glossed over a key point.

“Kill… them.”

What whoever ‘they’ did, warranted murder. It most definitely did not warrant ruining my day before it even begun. Normally people wait till about midday and that dream pushed in line.

At least I didn’t hear that damn phrase. At this point I was pretty sure that past me just made shit up to feel better. I couldn’t understand it, why would there be a price to pay, and what would I be paying for?

I brought my hand to my brows and rubbed them. I was probably going to put off sneaking into the library today, it was not worth the extra stress.