Snippets and Stories: (R) Hallucinations

It's not real. Nothing is going to hurt me. Nothing wants to hurt me. There isn't a point. They have no reason to hurt me. They aren't real.

Even so I hesitate before the hallway.

It happens all too often, these nonsensical visions, an askew perception of the world, twisted and macabre in its portrayal.

In the darkness there is nothing, and when I step forward into the gaping hallway, is there a dark shadow behind me. A jaw unhinged that stretches chillingly wide with rows of jagged teeth protruding every in a disorganized row.

Shuddering I dread peering over my shoulder.

Wrenching my gaze away from the foreboding and ominously still  darkness ahead, I chance a look back.

And--nothing.

Of course there is nothing.

It is all in my mind.

But when I look up in the mirror I see hands reaching out for me. Blood oozing out between a shadowed face.

Blinking there's nothing in the mirror but my disturbed reflection.

In the low light I see things that aren't there. The many passerbys are monsters that lunge at me with malice and inhuman faces.

The incoming train is fast approaching, a force shoves violently from behind, and suddenly the sparking wheels bare down on my legs, the sickening crunch of bone and the tearing of flesh, jagged white pokes out from the bloody red mess, torn and flayed skin hanging and dripping in the slight nauseating breeze, so thick as it was with a coppery scent.

A shake of the head and a sharp flinch from a powerful rush of wind. A gust kicked up from the train as the metal brakes grind sharply with the tracks to pull to a screeching stop.

The southbound train moves on, and myself unscathed.

Such scenes were not uncommon to my ill at ease mind.

I am afraid.

Frightened.

No one will hear a peep, nor see into this gore ridden and festering mind of mine.

It is terrifying.

And incriminating. Integrity compromised. Deemed psychologically unsound.

Dangerous. Unstable.

No more, please.

Neskyii is unable to act when I am so far gone, trapped in these visions.

But as I return to normality he is by my side once more, chastising me.

Harsh, but familiar.

Desperately I cling to him, hand wound tight in his and scrabbling to grab hold of the front of the sleek cloth of his shirt.

He pauses and permits it. If only to keep me grounded to the reality I hope is real.