hair-photography

10

Stygian Incubus

by Karl-Shakur -Tumblr Instagram  Twitter

Words by Femi -Tumblr Instagram Twitter

It was the same dream every night. The same nightmare, the same heart pounding, all consuming torment.The dark, the yearning, the dank smell of evil that comes, the visceral fear. The longing she feels emanating from the darkness like a living, breathing entity.Floating through the abyss, terrified of what was to come, shrouded in the very thing she feared the most. Concealed in night, hearing the noises of the one born from it. The darkness comes at night. The sun goes down and the terror is born. Cold sweats, fear fibers drawing inky lines through her consciousness.There’s no fighting it, no hiding from it. No escaping her destiny, her fate. She fights nonetheless. The alternative is not an option.It’s sickly tendrils extend towards her even as she struggles through the black pool that is her fear, searching for a way out.She’s lost and alone in this nightmare. Not a soul in sight. No reprieve. Only the eerie presence that chases her through this unending alternate reality.The worst part, she has an overwhelming feeling that the light is just out of reach. Just out of her grasp, just a step, a road, a walk away. So close yet so far.But she fears reaching for it. Almost as much as she fears the dark.