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Soulless

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I wake up. I can’t hear anything, I can’t see anything. Darkness surrounds me. I try to scream but hear nothing. I try to move but can’t move a muscle. Move my eyes to look around. But all I see is more darkness. I start to panic. My heart rate rises, my breathes get shorter. I begin to sweat and it starts to get hot. Panic-stricken, I attempt to call out to Tara.

I still can’t hear my voice, but does that mean that she can’t? I continue to call out, or at least I think I do, but I don’t hear any replies, I don’t see any signs of her showing me she heard. Nothing. I start to despair. I start to cry. I feel like the walls around me start to get closer together, closing me off from the rest of the world. I can’t see them move but I just feel like they are moving.

I hate being in small spaces. I try to move, but I am locked down as if I were a giant magnet, my bed one too. I try to scream out again but fail to see any success. My sweating increases, my heart beats faster, my breathing shorter, quicker.

“Hello!” I am scared almost to death as what appears to be a clown face pops from nowhere right in front of my face. I scream once more, but still hear nothing. Why can I hear the creepy clown but not my own voice? The clown brings its face closer to mine, knowing I can’t back away, or grab something to defend myself with. It opens its mouth into wide smile.

Its teeth, all jagged, incredibly sharp-looking, some big some small, all half rotted. Its breath, worse than the smell of rotting corpses, the worst smell you could think of, sweeps all over my face, nearly causing me to throw up everywhere. Luckily I don’t, who knows what the clown would do to me if I covered him in my vomit.

With the smile reaching his ears, the clown blinks once, then winks one eye, then the other. He raises his eyebrow a few times at me and backs up a bit and starts to laugh hysterically. I scream out for Tara once more, and this time I hear my voice!!! The clown’s laugh starts to drown out my screams for help. Eventually I give up. I stop screaming and give up. I would give my soul for this to end.

As if he read my mind just as I thought about forfeiting my soul, he immediately ceased his loud, high pitched laughter. He brought his head down and looked at me. All expression was lost from his face and he just stared into my eyes. As if searching for an answer, a plea, a puzzle, his gaze never once left mine. He never blinked, winked, or creeped me out with his eyebrows, and I never dared blink while he was watching me like a fox, ready to jump on its prey. He slowly brought his face closer to mine and opened his mouth slightly.

“You wish to forfeit your soul do you? Interesting.”

He barely moved his mouth to speak to me. I thought; no, no, no, no! The clown’s deep, almost inaudible voice started again.

“Give me your soul. Stare into the face of eternity and give me your essence.”

As soon as he finished saying that, his hand instantly moved to the top of his head. He dug his fingers into his skin and slowly ripped the flesh off. As he did so, I noticed he had no skull. What appeared instead of a skull was blackness. A black void grew larger as the rest of the clown’s face was being torn off. The black void captured me. I couldn’t avert my eyes. Then, when the clown was finished with his face, he starts his hysterical laugh for a second time. The black void then starts to swirl around, clockwise.

I feel my face being dragged into the swirling mass. I try to resist, but I can’t move my head away, nor can I push the clown away with my hands. With all my will power I try to resist having my soul ripped out of me and into this, thing. I feel pain beyond imagination as my face morphs and ripples.

The centre of my face is the closest to the black void, the rest of my face is further away. My face to an observer would look like a horribly messed up cone, morphed beyond reasoning. I can feel my soul being dragged out of my body through the centre of my face. I scream out in pain, but still I am unable to hear anything.

As my soul stretches and starts to enter the void I feel like I could shatter into a million pieces at anytime. I can see my soul, swirling in the void, getting further away. What little of my soul remains a part of me, still stretches. As the end of my soul is about to leave my entity, it flicks with great force which sends me flying to the wall behind me. I hit the concrete wall with such impact the I chip the wall and stay in place.

Still unable to move, with little energy left to stay conscious, I see the last of my soul swirl into, and become part of the void. Once it enters I lose my feeling. I cannot feel the cold, of the room, or my body heat radiating off me. I can’t feel the pain of my face as it moulds back to its original shape after being morphed beyond comprehensible proportions, I can’t feel love, hatred, fear, happiness. I see my soul float aimlessly deeper and deeper into the void, getting smaller and smaller with each passing second. My eyes start to struggle to keep open.

I have lost the will to keep them open and they fall shut. I feel my heart beat slow, my breathing slows to a near standstill. I barely have enough strength to stay awake, let alone fight to keep my breathing and my heart beat regular. I imagine I would have a massive migraine, and my arms and legs would be completely numb, but I can’t feel anything. I want to call out to Tara, tell her to be careful, tell her how much I love her and much she means to me, but I can’t open my mouth. I try to make a noise anyway, but all I get is a mere hiss as my breath leaves me.

Blood starts to run down from my mouth and down my face to my chin. Slowly it drops onto the bed after leaving lines of dark red on the wall which I am stuck in. I force my eyes open with whatever will or energy I have left and see the void has disappeared. The clown reattaches its face and smiles the same ear-wide smile. It chuckles once, and waves towards me.

As it does so, I fall out of the wall and onto my bed. I land in a pool of mixed blood and saliva. My face lies beneath the mixture and my body lands awkwardly on top of itself. My eyes stay open against my will and my heart beat reduces to only a few beats a minute. Wondering how I am still able to stay conscious with little or no oxygen and such a low heart rate, the clown leaves my room, exiting through the window and leaves it open. The curtain flaps in the wind and is ripped in several places.

As the clown walks further and further away I fall into unconsciousness.

The next morning, the sun rises into a cloudless sky, but gives off little light. Amazed and confused with the strange occurrence, Tara walks into my room wondering why I am not awake yet. She sees me lying in a heap on my bed. She sees the blood lines on the wall and the whole where I was forced to make. She sees the bed sheets torn on the floor, and the ripped curtains, still flapping, even though there is no wind. She screams and starts to cry. She calls out my name, and then starts to shout when I don’t reply. She rushes towards me and gently nudges me. I don’t make a sound.

Crying and sobbing, she quietly continues to call my name. She moves my body so I am lying on my back. She checks for my breathing, and checks for a pulse. She finds I have neither and starts to cry even more. She inspects my body up and down. My clothes are majorly torn, and she notices the black circles around my eyes. She gently and lovingly touches my eyes and realises I have none. The sockets become dark black and resemble the void which devoured my soul. She strokes my head, running her fingers through the length of my long hair.

I hover there in front of my body and watch her tears pours all over my body, the bed and her clothes. I try to call out to her knowing she would most likely hear nothing. As I do, she lifts her head and sniffs. Confused, she lowers her head, and begins crying again. I fly through the walls and leave the room. In a tree in the yard visible from my window, sits a clown, all hunched over and tired looking. I ignore it and continue on my way higher and higher into the sky.

“Huh, even though I consumed his soul, he still manages to conjure what’s left of himself into a spirit.” The clown watches me fly away and stares in awe.



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