Whispers of the Dark

Alright, 

So I've finally, sort of, kicked myself back into gear. This isn't saying much, as I wasn't that productive writing-wise even back when I considered my days not totally irrelevant to all other life on earth. For the most part, I feel I've learned to keep hold of my string of cheap pearls and keep etching away at the notebook, instead of feeling sorry for myself the majority of my waking hours. I don't expect you to know what I mean by that, but just bare with me, I'm technically still a teenager; I feed off of vague and borderline meaningless metaphors. 

Anywho, moral of the story, this is the first piece I've birthed after a long hiatus and thus it's not of super duper quality. HOWEVER, I've read the thing over quite a series of times and I've grown kind of fond of the feel it delivers. I'd love to know if you feel the same....if anyone else exists out there.. 

anyone... 

He awoke gasping, his lungs like claws 

       grasping for air. 

It was a gas that filled his chest in a second and departed as if repelled from his body by some greater outside force. 

               His eyes darted about his skull in their fury to explain
     this new setting. 

Despite having only been conscious for a few moments, he could 

                                                   sense the

                                                    stench 

of the heavy atmosphere that
                                          hung
over his body and was being
                                shoved out from his chest. 

His body continued the panic as his spine and leg muscles
                                                              wrenched 

                                                                 and writhed, 

collapsing downwards when they were defeated by the straps 

         that held him 

     in place. 

His body wrenched again, his movements increasing in 

ferocity until 

             he heard a cry rise from beneath him 

          that bore a sound of a creature unknown 

to mankind. 

          The cry turned into a blood boiling howl as his 

struggle against his binds 

fueled his panic and his panic 

fueled his 

struggle. 

His throat and chest now seemed as if they were in flames, and it was 

only when that fire 

              overtook him and his body 

                     ceased 

                           its convulsions that he realized 

that the hellish howl had come from 

                              within him. 

His eyes strained and fought their sockets to gather in any 

                                             light, finding none - 

save for a dull yellow glow that                   illuminated the odor

                                      that hung 

in the air. 

He lay there, still. His surrender enabled him 

                   to now sense the darting movements. 

As his brain throbbed with adrenaline, his ears began to pick up 

                  those whispers.  

                                  Whispers of the dark. 

He could hear the evil breathing out of them, despite 

                         not understanding the devilish 

tongue. 

He shivered as the voices grew 

more harsh and 

more violent. He felt hot, 

               putrid breath 

             petting his flesh where the skin had been sanded away by
his struggle 

against the binds. 

The whispers grew louder still and became voices that carried 

a rancid language;the sound

                          burning his skin. 

     But it was the

tongues. 

       

Narrow and forked they reached out to lash his naked 

               skin, his eyes, his skull. 

It was then, as he listened, that

                               his heart burst into flame 

He finally understood 

                     the words, 

                as they whispered, 

                  

                           "Welcome, brother. 

                                     Welcome to Hell"