The air is thick with a silence that screams. It clings to the back of the throat, a metallic taste of fear and something wild, something untamed.
In the core of the chest, a bird beats wings against a bone cage, desperate for escape. Its rhythm is erratic, a frantic drumming that drowns out thought.
The mind fractures, mirroring the cracked earth, and a raw, guttural sound, not human, clawed its way up from a place older than memory.
It echoed in the hollows of the soul, a mournful, primal wail that spoke of forgotten pains and the terror of being truly, utterly alone.
The heart hammers against the ribs, an insistent, desperate demand for release that will not come.
Hysteria takes the form of a cold hand, reaching up from the darkness to grip the spine, sending shivers that are not from cold.
The world blurs at the edges, dissolving into a gray mist where shadow creatures dance in the periphery, taunting and beckoning.
The only truth is the fear, a primal, ancient fear that roots itself deep in the marrow and refuses to be quelled.
It is the scream of the universe, concentrated into a single, terrifying moment of pure, unadulterated primal hysteria.
And the silence returns, heavy with the ghost of the sound, leaving behind a stillness more haunting than any scream.
In the core of the chest, a bird beats wings against a bone cage, desperate for escape. Its rhythm is erratic, a frantic drumming that drowns out thought.
The mind fractures, mirroring the cracked earth, and a raw, guttural sound, not human, clawed its way up from a place older than memory.
It echoed in the hollows of the soul, a mournful, primal wail that spoke of forgotten pains and the terror of being truly, utterly alone.
The heart hammers against the ribs, an insistent, desperate demand for release that will not come.
Hysteria takes the form of a cold hand, reaching up from the darkness to grip the spine, sending shivers that are not from cold.
The world blurs at the edges, dissolving into a gray mist where shadow creatures dance in the periphery, taunting and beckoning.
The only truth is the fear, a primal, ancient fear that roots itself deep in the marrow and refuses to be quelled.
It is the scream of the universe, concentrated into a single, terrifying moment of pure, unadulterated primal hysteria.
And the silence returns, heavy with the ghost of the sound, leaving behind a stillness more haunting than any scream.
