“How far down does this hole go?” I solemnly ask myself. For hours on end I stare into the deep void, dancing in cycles in front of my eyes. It seems like it’s been a few years since I was able to control my hunger for what lies at the bottom of this pit.

Of course I’ve never actually seen what’s down there, but I have seen glimpses; strange lights and forms sometimes appear from the midst of the swirling black. It captivates me, and yet I always fear that someone is nearby and watching me….

And I sure as hell don’t want to be caught here. I’m sure a place like this has a bad reputation with some people. It’s so dark, but I love it. I can’t stop staring down this pit, wondering about where it might lead. Something so forbidding has never appeared so enticing to me before the moment I saw this. Sometimes it seems like the dark swirls are so close to me; sometimes I want to take it in my hand and taste it.

I want to taste the dark liquor of this abyss. The sight of it is so striking…can I call it beautiful? Yes. I think it is beautiful…is it? I guess I could call it stunning, or striking. But not beautiful. It can’t be. Nothing that makes me feel this guilty can be beautiful.

Wait…what…what is that? Long have I seen this grave stretched open before me, many times I have felt it pulling on my body in my sleep, drawing me close to it’s edge. Oh I remember those nights, nights where the last thing I would see before my sleep was this black hole. I vaguely remember waking up standing at the edge, ready to throw myself in. I was never ready for that, but it seems that I’ve been getting closer to this pit every day…every long painstaking day.

But now this? What kind of madness is this? I have seen the dark mist, I have felt it fill my lungs and my limbs, but never has it filled my ears. What a sound it makes!!! I could swear the dead are singing to me. What is this? A faint screeching noise growing in my ear. It’s swelling. It’s somewhat like a hiss. Yes… a hiss…like that of a fast moving stream, like rapids. No…no not water…even a raging river makes far to gentle a sound to be compared to this.

It is the sound of a distant fire. The screech of tearing wood, and the hissing smoke ripping through the lungs of a building is what I hear. No…still it is not the only thing I hear.

Locusts. I hear them. They come in massive numbers, and I can’t believe for a moment that they will relent. I can see the desolation. I can see the devastated crops. The whole town turned to a plague. The men of the town crawling in the streets for a lack of food, the families lying on the floors of their homes…pestilence is everywhere. The land is dry, and it burns. The hearts of all people are flooded with poison. A door has been opened which no human can close alone!

Wait…the sound is gone. Let me stare back into the abyss. Of lovely darkness, might we share a moment of relief? I can’t take my mind of this madness, and I just need a small indulgence to calm my craving.

Stop. I surface. Did I just cross the edge? I can’t see straight. I can only hear the screech, and yet it’s dead silent. My mind is racing now. What have I done? Are my hands covered in blood? I…how…have I taken a life? The darkness is not pulling on me…how is this? I can’t…feel…anything.

WHAT in the name of blazes has happened? Why am I even waiting here? What…is…this…light….

Let me roll around in the cobwebs for a moment. Perhaps a scratch or two on my chest to ease the pressure on my heart. My hair to dust these floorboards off now? It seems right to me. Perhaps the dust mites will provide me better company.

Hello creatures that live in dust. I see the spiders haven’t eaten you yet. Might I ask if I’m dead? Ah, bite my tongue, I’ve spoken far too much, and I’ve thought too much of this. Goodbye little mites, I would like to lie here with you again. We shall certainly meet again here at this same pool of blood.

For now I must sleep…and dream…maybe I’ll encounter some darkness and dream of some of the wonders I have longed for. I just hope no eyes are turned to me.

…And yet I somehow wish that someone’s eyes would see me. Just that one person’s eyes, to take notice…and yet I only want him to turn a blind eye. Who would have known fantasies could dig graves and build such lovely coffins.