[journey] better off dead

As you stroll through the streets, the tranquil autumn night wraps around you like a comforting shroud. Leaves, painted in hues of amber and gold, rustle softly, propelled by a gentle wind. Occasionally, a car passes, its engine humming in the distance. Away from your mother's wailing, you attempt to find peace amidst the dark streets. But oh, peace is a futile thing, my sweet child. And peace was never yours to begin with.

Midway through another street, a sudden realisation washes over you. An absolute stillness has settled over the city. Your footsteps, normally muffled by the ambient sounds, now echo in isolation as if the usual nocturnal sounds have been erased without a trace. The world seems to be holding its breath. It's quiet. Too quiet.

An overwhelming sensation crawls up your spine—a prickling awareness that you are not alone. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as if responding to an unseen presence. In the oppressive hush, devoid of sound or motion, an unspoken truth unfolds—someone is with you, their unseen gaze boring into the very core of your existence. The air becomes thick with an unspoken tension, and an invisible weight settles upon your shoulders.

A compulsion, urgent and instinctual, begins to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. It's an unsettling feeling, an intuition urging you to confront the enigma that shadows your every step. As your heartbeat quickens, each pulse reverberates like a distant drumbeat, amplifying the stillness of the night.

Will you look over your shoulder?

You slowly turn, only to face a completely empty street. The familiar street stretches out before you, devoid of any life or sound. There is not a soul to be seen - just the same old streets you've wandered so many times before. Pfff! Your brain is messing with you here, clearly, there is no-one following you, no-one watching you. There's nothing off about these streets, nothing you have to fear. Everything is perfectly, mundanely normal.

You could almost convince yourself to believe that, if it weren't for the burning sensation of the scars on your chest begging you to believe otherwise. A sudden hand on your shoulder spins you around, a vice-like grip clamping onto you, shattering any trace of tranquillity. You are not given the chance to defend yourself, sharp claws protruding the already burning scars, digging deep within your chest. Your body yields involuntarily, heart pulsating against the cruel embrace of her talons. Helpless, you fall to your knees, and there she towers above you – Granny.

"Did you miss me, son?" Her claws twist around your heart, the pain transcending anything you have ever felt physically. A wicked smile spreads across her face, and with a simple jolt of her claws, your world fades to black. "This is going to be fun.." Are the last words you hear before your body crumples to the floor. Dead? Not quite..

Your world fades to black, an absolute darkness surrounding your very being. Time becomes an elusive concept, slipping through your grasp like sand as you succumb to the abyss following the cruel intrusion of Granny's claws.

Suddenly, with an abruptness that mirrors your initial fall, you jolt back into existence. A sharp intake of air fills your lungs, as if you've been granted a second chance at life. Yet, the rhythm pulsating within your chest is no longer the familiar cadence you once knew. Changed. Different. As if it's no longer yours to control.

Your eyes strain against the oppressive darkness, revealing only fleeting glimpses of the desolate surroundings that now envelop you. The ceiling above you showcases a decaying mosaic of corroded metal, its jagged edges telling tales of anbandonement and neglect. The feeble glow of the place struggles to reveal the skeletal remnants of a warehouse lost to time, where rotting crates stand as silent witnesses to years of isolation.

As you attempt to focus on your surroundings, reality itself seems to warp and shift, playing tricks on your senses. The warehouse becomes an ever-changing tableau, a surreal dance of shadows and decay that defies comprehension. Behind you, a sudden burst of bright light shatters the oppressive darkness, temporarily blinding you in the stark transition from obscurity to illumination. A sinister laugh slices through the silence, and before the bright lights she stands - still staring down on you.

"How are you feeling, son? Remorseful for your actions, perhaps?"

She speaks, her voice devoid of kindness. Her dark eyes focus on her four-fingered claws, a painful memory you left her with.

Granny's laughter fills the warehouse once more. Unfazed by your angry words of defiance, she nonchalantly waves her claw. "Sick? Me?" Her voice echoes. "Have you seen yourself, boy?" She speaks, spitting out the last word as if it were a curse upon her lips. Your surroundings warp and distort as if reality itself bends to her will, the play of light taking on wicked tricks, casting eerie shadows around you. Granny's gaze descends to your chest, and a wicked grin curls around her lips as she revels in her own work.

Your chest bears the marks of her curse, scars pulsating with an ominous energy. Black veins snake across your skin like tendrils of dark magic, their pulsating rhythm synchronized with the unnatural beat of your heart.

"You could have had it all." She shakes her head. "And yet, you decided to take something that was not yours to take." She cracks her claw-like fingers, four, her gaze lingering on the absence of her index finger. Such a shame. Such pity. She could have granted you true peace, but now, she was going to make you pay for scarring her for the rest of her time.

A bitter scoff escapes her lips, a derisive sound that hangs in the air. Her eyes burn into your very being, a storm of disdain brewing within their very depths. "You ignorant boy!" She spats out. "I never claimed to be your saviour, but I was going to make things EASIER for you. You chose to perceive me as a threat, but you failed to see the bigger picture." She growls.

The air thickens with tension as she draws in a sharp breath, her lips twitching with an unsettling mixture of fury. She stretches her claws as if she considers taking everything you have and crumbling it under her very own fingers. "How's your hand?" she finally manages to force over her lips, her voice carrying an insidious edge.

Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had surfaced, replaced by a dismissive shake of her head. "But it matters no more," she whispers, a haunting prelude to a darker revelation. The warehouse seems to shudder in response to the weight of her words. "You're just like them, and you will suffer just like them," she continues, her claw absentmindedly tracing over the burn marks on her own arms.

With those words, she dismisses you, turning her back on you as she starts walking away. She fears no hell from you.

Oh, you poor, fierce soul. Did you really think she would turn her back on you if she for a second feared your retaliation could bring any more harm upon her being? Oh no, YOU have done enough. And to think she wouldn't expect you to do more.. ah, such a shame.

The hammer, heavy with the weight of vengeance, hangs frozen in the air as your intent to harm Granny meets a cruel reality. Every step forward, a proclamation of defiance, sends shockwaves through your body. Your heart stutters, and then starts pounding irregularly. Every move, every step, suddenly takes up more energy than you can handle. The dark veins on your chest pulsate heavily with her magic, with the curse she bestowed upon you. Did you really think attacking her would work?

As you stagger and stumble, each movement becomes a laborious struggle against the relentless grip of the curse. Her wicked laughter pierces the air, drowning out the sound of your own erratic heartbeat. "Save your strength, son, you might need it." Cold sweat drips down your spine as you grapple with the worst of all sensations—a heart not beating as it should. it forces you down to the ground once more.

Each pulse reverberates through your body like a drum of doom, amplifying the torment of your physical and mental anguish. Granny's parting words linger in the air, a chilling echo as she fades into the distance, leaving you behind in a torment of her making. The dim lights above you flicker with an erratic pulse, casting disjointed patterns across the decaying walls of the warehouse. Each stuttering flash adds to the disorienting symphony, as if the very fabric of your surroundings is unravelling.

This has to be fake.

Right?

This can not be real?

Paranoia tightens its grip on you, a relentless force that distorts your perception of reality. Just as you think things can't get worse, your heart calms down and the world grows quiet. From behind you, a low rumbling growl resonates through the room, heavy footsteps closing in on you. Not a grandmother. Definitely. Not. A. Grandmother. A monster, maybe?

You look up, meeting piercing crimson eyes like your own, staring at you with an unsettling intensity. The dark creature rises from the ground, its true form obscured by the shadows, but there’s no doubt it stands at close to two metres tall. A row of dangerously sharp teeth gleam in the dim light, hinting at a primal hunger transcending the boundaries of the tangible world.

The figure's form is elusive, like an ever-shifting spectre, making it difficult to focus on its true shape. It defies perception, a nightmarish entity that seems to warp the very fabric of reality. The air around it shimmers with an uncanny distortion, as if your mind struggles to reconcile the existence of such a monstrous being.

Is it even real?

A guttural snarl escapes from its mouth, sending tremors of fear through your very core. The creature approaches, its tall form looming over you, its claws scratching against the cold concrete floor, a haunting rhythm that seems to echo the impending doom drawing nearer.

Oh, that looks very real.

Oh, dear Sang. What will you do now?

The monster draws closer and closer, a true nightmare in the dimly lit warehouse. Its shadowy form looms over you as it snarls, shaking you to your very core. Before you, the creature bares its teeth, showing a row of sharp fangs that could easily snap you in two if you ended up between them. The lights flicker above, and its form distorts for a split second.

In a surge of adrenaline, you hurl the hammer with precision. The dice favours your desperate attempt, and with a resounding 18, the projectile meets its target. A deafening, shrill screech tears through the air, as if metal scrapes against metal. The shadowy creature recoils, its red eyes momentarily vanishing into the darkness. For an ephemeral moment, hope flickers in the dim-lit space.

Something in the dark crashes to the ground, causing an unsettling quake that shakes the very foundation of the decaying warehouse. The walls and ceiling groan miserably, as if the whole structure might come falling down on you. Did you .. just defeat a monster with a hammer..?

You sprint towards the door, fueled by the fleeting hope of escape. The lights above flicker once more, casting an ominous dance of shadows. Just as you think you could make it, a blast of embers erupt from the abyss the creature had vanished into, hurtling towards you with malevolent intent. You might want to.. dodge.

Despite the searing pain and exhaustion trying to consume you, a fierce determination propels your body forward. Even the grandma underestimated your ability to continue fighting, she must be livid. Yet, you run. You run despite the wounds etched into your flesh, despite the insidious curse that tightens its grip on your heart. As if defying the very essence of her malevolence, you leap with impeccable timing, narrowly dodging the blast of ember. The fiery projectile finds its mark against the crates behind you, while you fall to the ground, all air forced out of your lungs.

The abandoned crates groan under the impact of the spreading fire. The orange flames casting long shadows over the warehouse, the ceiling above painted with dark smoke as the blaze takes hold of the rotten wood. Miserably creaking, the stack of crates succumbs to the flames, tipping over with a resounding crash. But you’re already on your feet, long on your way towards the door to even feel the effects of its fall. But something else does.

Amid the chaos, a sharp cry pierces the air, not of a monstrous entity but of a creature in distress. One look over your shoulder tells you a tale you did not expect. The room is illuminated in short bursts of ember, each flash revealing a creature struggling beneath the fallen wood. Its form only lighting up from amidst the darkness in short bursts of embers coming from its jaws, as it desperately tries to get the pile of wood off it, trying to do what you have been doing all along: survive. But it’s too small, too weak - if only someone would lift the wood a little.

It seems you’re not the only unfortunate soul who has befallen grandma’s vengeance. Will you choose to forsake the poor creature? Or will you allow it a second chance at life, at the odd chance you might forsake your own chance of getting out? The door is so close..

The creature spits flames in a desperate attempt to burn its way out from underneath the weight of the rotten wood. The air fills with the acid scent of charred wood, but the creature’s attempts are futile. As you drop to your knees next to the trapped creature, it snarls at you, baring its teeth in a show of ferocity. Those big red eyes, pointed at you, show not just feistiness - they betray a deep-seated fear, a fear instilled by encounters with beings akin to yourself - humans.

It seems wary of your intentions, at first wanting to crawl away from your reach. Yet, when you lift the rotten wood up, the creature hurries out from underneath the crates. Its fur, normally sleek and elegant, now carries the smudges of char and dust. It turns to you, taking a cautious step away from you, red eyes locked on you. And then it bares its teeth. Definitely thinking of biting the hand that tried to help it. Sound familiar? Or is this a different situation?

Meanwhile, the flames of its futile attempt to escape grow all around you, the air thickening with smoke.