The Hulking Beast With Broad Maw

Still in stillness coming still, nothing can keep it gone. Not any pill. No tricks or tips or routine will keep the Hulking Beast With Broad Maw from coming back. Always well past the witching hour, it comes in at 3 o’clock; slipping in during the hypnopompic state so there is no way to tell what is dreamscape and what is real.

Yenne velt is where is could dwell for all we know.

And so, at 3 o’clock precisely, in lumbers onto your chest with your neck in long claws as the gaping maw widens and blank eyes stare. Dozens of teeth an uncomfortable beacon, its eyes swallow long before it can set to devouring.

Again and again and again and —

It’s tiring, isn’t it? Night after night: the same beast, the same end; the same dread, the same shame. Maybe this Thing is always there, unable to be seen except for the long seconds it clambers in and on with recursive reverberation.

This time is the time to follow the Hulking Beast With Broad Maw.

It appears again, slow and vacant. Deliberate in its movements, the Hulking Beast With Broad Maw hoists itself up onto you and reaches out to hold the throat as it always does. Beyond the teeth catching the moon’s light, there is the shiny, inky blackness in the back of its own infinite within. Where does this go?

This time, you don’t wake up. This time, you tear back into dreamscape and follow the Hulking Beast With Broad Maw to see what it takes back home — and you know it has taken something, just as it always does.

Rooms among trees among buildings among meadows it moves through on gliding, skittering enclosed feet unseen and unknown. Other shadows and shades lurk in the dark contrast of corners and broad sides and emotionally driven scenery lit up as cinema in their homes they don’t belong to.

The winding, straightening path slopes and levels with each step as you follow with axe in and a whistling note in your ear which slides away as you peddle closer and closer to the Beast just out of reach.

Stranger and stranger still is how the Hulking Beast never seems to take notice. It moves along, leaving behind its chicken scratch feet, never seeming to glance over. Its vacant eyes haven’t been in your sight since it sat up on your chest. It never moves its head to take in the world around it.

But what this world is remains a question.

The whistle comes and goes; comes and goes. Just as the world comes and ago, appearing back into consciousness in choppy cut scene sequence. There is no way to know if it is daytime or nighttime; dusk or dawn. The path has long gone and no prints remain on the ground only seeming to exist in vision and not in touch. Where is the Hulking Beast With Broad Maw taking you?

There is nowhere else to go at the expansive dead end. The Hulking Beast With Broad Maw is gone. The world melts away with harsh sun’s light which awakens you, lying in your bed still exhausted and swearing you had gotten into bed only minutes before.

This isn’t the end but it’s time to go.