It Hangs · 11:54pm Jul 18th, 2013

Crawling through the darkness of a sewer system, feeling the feces, and maggots, and parasites crawl over and around you. The light of hope shines no more. Not after years of searching for a way out. Not after tears, and blood, and sweat have slowly drained all the will to fight.

Crawling is the only escape.

In silence, you hear it chuckle.

In darkness, you hear its laugh.

In pain, it rejoices, as the endless sewers stretch far and forever.

There was a time, when laughter and fun, and safety and joy were had. When the tender smile of a mother, or the loving embrace of a father would quench all qualms. There was a time, without dark. Without stench. A time when death was the worst that could happen.

Sobs in the darkness, as a figure rocks back and forth. Tears in the shadows, as veins are cut open with a rusting tube, only to heal once more, to only cause pain.

No death. There is only the reminiscing of times past. Waiting for the beast to be sated.

Its long, hairy legs. Its dark, red eyes. Its claws, so sharp. Its teeth, like fangs.

In the middle of the tunnel, it hangs.

Eyes look up, red from weeping. They stare, and plead. They look up, and ask to be shut.

In the darkness, it smiles. In the hollow reaches of the mind, it lurks. Forever silent, until its time to crawl.

In the middle of the tunnel, the pavement cracks.

A soft vein, a gentle caress. Death is dealt, no more is felt. As hope dies, as realization sinks. It becomes ill, it loses gleam. No longer of worth, it's left to rot. By the beast, who eats. By the being, that feeds.

On the vain light that shines in us all. On the passing thought, like mist in the morning, of a smile. Of someone we know, we knew, we'll forget. Once we stop reaching, once our hand falls, the beast will always be there.

For in the middle of the tunnel, the monster hangs.

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