TDV 7: Between The CorridorsDecember 31st, 2007 by Sharkchild
My life started to deteriorate in the absence of sensible things. I was a child, and so to me such remedies against the imaginative should never have been necessary. But when the world crashed and became the inferno of death, it could not be associated, however so sadistically, with youthful reveries. Even under the attempted corrections, I never escaped in those ways expected—that was probably the one thing that ever did make sense after my first evening with the Midnight Apothecary.
If I could have been able to leave for but a second, I might have had the opportunity to depart myself from the frothing insanity. Yet, that incorporeal devil of existence’s undergrowth had crawled its way deep into the vestiges of my waking consciousness, where only very rarely such a thing came to play. I was manipulated and taunted with images upon my mind that opened and closed without approval or submission. I lost those very roots that built the foundations of my memory.
Some have said that it was possession—a word that I heard through those few fractions of life I experienced—and others said that it was a mental impediment, but only I knew its true derivative. There were reasons that most dreams were left to the nothingness of unremembered timelines, but there were even greater reasons why those entities that inhabited them should not overstep their boundaries. I, on the other hand, had the carnal fortune of trapping one such beast in the horrific folly of a simple awakening, and I never slept since. I called this incident—when something came to a place where it should not have been—falling between the corridors.
(Listen to the rest)