Unearthing

When he took you up the hill, he promised to bury your soul. He promised to return. He didn’t promise what came--to strip you of your voice. To take your power. You are a possession of darkness, demons exist in you beyond description. Hideous, evil things emitting sour breath of rotting corpses and desiccated desires. Even the moon’s radiance cannot reach you here. You are buried far beneath the weight of your silence. Two years it took to break the bond of lips sealed tight, pressed together as if by a needle sewn with thread. Your lips are skewered by rays of the moon, your insides bared to the ravens. They feast as your body lies, dappled with drops of moonlight like icy diamonds shimmering along skin. You didn’t climb the hill willingly. He dragged you by the hair, kicking and screaming. You fought all the way. At least that’s what you’ll tell them. Better than speaking the truth--he threw your limp body over his shoulder like a sack of dreams and carried you into the night. There would be no coming back, never the same as when you entered this nightmare. All around you, pieces of ash fall from sky. A heavy fog thickens the air, making it hard to breathe. Even when you do there’s the taste of it--smoke, the charred future. Did you really ever think you would escape this? You are creator of your own nightmare, the gatekeeper to your prison. You hold keys to unlock the path of light but always turn toward darkness instead. When the moon beckons from above, you look down. Don’t meet the eyes of the moon or it will seduce you to rejoin the world of the living. You are half-dead in this silent torture, becoming more like a creature with no face and no mouth, without ability to cry out or save yourself. Your body burns from the ground up; its fires will never extinguish. Just as the coals of your heart forever burn, once you break the silence and stretch your hands to grasp the fingers of the moon, you will find the fires remain, though you focus on their light and warmth beyond their destruction and searing heat. Gently you will begin the process of unearthing your soul.

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“The Unearthing” by @tiannag92 rings with beautifully crafted lines of terrifying horror. This tightly packed tale of destruction retains hope of rebirth and gives a voice to those that have been silenced.

~ Twitter review, The Mighty Line Magazine