𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤

Introduction

This is another amazing share by The Enchanted Booklet of Facebook here:

I love the words they use to accompany it.

The music is "Nightmare" by Brainbug

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤

He shhouldn't be here, he knew that. It was a dream, a nighmare he was sure.

It was dark, there was no colour in this place, and he was being watched, and he felt sure, that he was being judged for some wrongdoing, even though he had no clue what that transgression was.

He was in this place of darkness an on the empty fountain stood a number of creatures that may have been owls, their glowing eyes like pinholes in the fabric of dark reality.

Although he could hear nothing apart from imagined hoots, accusations cam into his mind:

"You have done wrong"

"You have cased harm"

"Now you must pay"

He did not want to be here, he should not be here.

Was this a nightmare, a dark dream, or frightening reality. He wanted to find safety, but the dark owls watched and glared.

Would they come for him if he ran? Where would he run to? He did not know where he was or how he got to this place.

He heard a creak of an old door or gate, but he could not identify where it came from. Was something or someone coming for him? He did not know, he could see nothing and the creak was followed by absolute silence.

His heart felt as though it was being clutched by an icy metal fist.

Still the owl eyes watched in an accusatory glowing glare.

Was this a dream, a nightmare, or had he descened into hell for whatever heinous crime he had committed? What was his punishment going to be? Could he escape?

He felt unable to move, in invisible chains.

The owls watched, unmoving.

Were they real or just stone statues on the fountain but he felt there was sentience there. Those accusations kept recurring:

"You have done wrong"

"You have cased harm"

"Now you must pay"

he was standing in invisible shackles in the hellish dark court wher he should not be. He did not know why he was here and there was no one to ask what was happening.

A crack.

Like a stone block sundered by a giant's axe, but again he saw nothing.

The owls were motionless, but still watching.

He was in a place that had one hidden way in, and no way out.

Time seemed to be a memory.

Nothing moved, apart from the beat of his heart and the cold blood coursing through his veins.

He should not be here but there was no way out that he could see.

It was just waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen.

His mine started going into overdrive.

Would those owls come to life and attack him like in Hitchcock's "The Birds", but the just stayed still with their accusatory stance on the empty fountain.

He began to realise that he could not move at all, at first he though it was invisible shackles keeping him here, but now his body seemed to be falling into osmosis.

Was this the punishment, to be turned to stone here watched by those unblinking owls, while retaining consciousness and awareness?

That would be a true hell.

And it wa shappening, second by second, his flesh became stone. He would be like an ancient statue, unable to move, but with consciousness.

This was a true nightmre and he was not waking up from it.

Seconds turned into miniutes turned into hours turned into days turned into weeks turned into months turned into years tirned into centuries, and still he stared at the owls and the owls stared at him.

He should not be here, but he now new here was his hell.