Maggots. by kickit

I lay before you, unable to open my eyes, unable to move or utter a word. I cannot speak, cannot let you know that I’m alive.

I feel a presence; a warm voice speaks to me. I recognize it, its whisper boy. He changes the CD, giving me new voices to listen to, keeping me sane. Without his music I would be a monster, one tearing myself to pieces when left alone with my corrupted thoughts in bitter silence.

It’s been twenty years of agony. Twenty years of torture, and the twisted horror of losing all movement. I cannot wake up from this nightmare; for they refuse to let me go. Why? I do not know. They keep me in invisible chains, refusing to let me fall into the Void.

I never thought I’d miss the possessions I once took for granted: sunshine, squeals of laughter from children and smell of freshly cut grass, the first frost as it falls upon the land; painting a beautiful winter wonderland. As I lay here, dying, I cannot help but image the world around me: whisper boy’s face, peaceful and smiling, the cackling man (woman?) that lies beside me, and the darkness that surrounds me.

A small mistake and my life shattered before my eyes. They dragged me away, hiding me from the world, forcing little worms inside of me. Worms resembling maggots that creep into your skin, sucking you dry. All but one survived. Wrenching her (him? it?) from me and taking its quivering body away from me. I’m glad I heard it laugh, not scream or cry as they unlocked it from me; the only survivor from the millions of corpses.

A window is creaked open, traffic noises float inside. A sense of joy fills me like never before. I feel warmth upon my body; my withered, ruined body. I wish I could see the sparkles of sun rays hovering above me. I realize now that the body decays faster then the soul, every humans fear, the fear of dying. I hope to never see my face again. Weakness floods through me, draining me.

Nobody knows my name, so they call me by a number. It’s too long, I cannot remember it. The whisper child returns, another presence with him. I hear the footsteps of the new being, nervous, scared. Who is it? Is it another strange scientist ready to install ugly beings inside of me?

I remember each labour. Millions of hours spent screaming in pain silently, unable to escape my lips, unable to rush out of me. I remember pleading to end this misery. Pleading to the non-existent power that surely wouldn’t have put me here; the one that could have saved me from torture and misery. I wanted to hold that surviving child. I wanted to touch it, the one they forced into my body; using it to harvest the cloned babies. It felt mine, should’ve been mine. They took it though, as they took my life, forcing me to become an ugly black hole, an ugly experiment. Exhausted from these thoughts I fall back into a comatose state.

I dream of open wheat fields, running through them, my fingers scraping the rough plants, feeling rain splatter upon my skin that leaves me breathless. I imagine little dragonflies, butterflies, insects of all sorts, twirling around me while woodland creatures run alongside me.

I am wrenched back to the present, to the nightmare, I feel a pair of hands grip me. Love showers through them, onto my skin. Voices echo words of forced happiness, sadness overshadowing them all at the same time. I feel the shudder of a lady, and the tear from a man fall upon my cheek. A finger brushes it away, sending electric shocks through me. I know that finger, that soft touch. I smile to myself, as she cups my face and sends joy soaring through me. I listen to their melancholy voices. I strain to hear my mother singing melodies from my childhood to me. I wish they left me my sight, only to see my parents faces one last time.

Finally, it’s time to let go, it’s time to enter the Void.