Nocturnal Behaviour part 48; Pieces of a Puzzle

Bits and pieces here and there. Disappearing images, shades of feeling, grey and mist-like, like flashes in the light of a strobolight.
Faces, that change into another when you glance somewhere else.

We are walking down an old forestroad. There's grass growing at the middle of it already. Next to us flows a rushing river. You're telling a story of the people who once lived in the forest, of a village at the peninsula, how it was abandoned a long time ago. Only ghosts walk there on the cliffs now.

The sound of the water covers the rustle of the leafes in the violent wind. I know that the village starts at the end of the road that is snaking upwards the hills and that there's only unlife there. It's a big mistake to take another step, yet I can't hold myself, curiosity driving me ahead.

Wind grabs my hair and pulls me out of this consiousness. I drift like a meaningless mote in the space that holds nothing, and yet holds everything.

The house has been painted invisible. Inside it lives only ghosts, whispers, unspeakable horrors. Forgotten things from the borders of the worlds. Even going near that house raises cold creeps on my skin. I can't go inside that house, but I'm being driven like cattle. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to open the door. I can't step over the threshold, and I'm picked up and put in the middle of those horrors.

I'm rolling restlessly from another thought to another, I realise I'm awake, and that someone is breathing next to me and that his hand is right next to my side. I slip back into the misty world of the dream.

We're children again, running down that hill. They are chasing us again, and I know we are in a hurry, we have to get away, that they can't see us in this place. It's too late already, they are shouting behind us. We run faster. You trip over in the slope.

We are walking along a gravelly road. It's middlesummer, hot and heedy. We had plans. Thoughts and all kinds of wishes. We were planning on doing it tonight, and I can't remember who told me about that show. That you can't watch it without going mad and that the ghosts will come and take you and make you one of them. You are squeezing the videotape in your small, sweaty hand and we circle around the hills to home.

I open the door and I know that the portal to another world has already opened. The possibility has been made true and soon sun will set down and this place will fill with them. Fear is electricity on our skin and everyone feels it. Someone is arguing that we can't watch it in this kind of house, that it aint possible. I'm laughing, and it sounds like crying, and I say that we are going to do it tonight. We aint backing up.

The walls crack, I am black and white picture, a cartoon slavering in the strawberryfields and a mouse is going to eat me alive and I kill my boss with a rake and a newsreader in the old, rattling tv says that this kind of program can't be shown to public, the wallpapers start to roll down by themselves, revealing the faces of people who have once died. I am dust, I am electrified picture and a piece of information traveling through a cabble and I explode in the picture tube and sit on the floor, mouth ajar, not realising that this all is happening during just one second and it's frying my brain.

I roll over, he is screaming mildly like he would be seeing my nightmare, where I am a prisoner and I moan too, even when I know I'm awake. My hip is on fire and there's a constant pain in my back. I seek a better position and slip back in.

I'm sitting on the floor and my friends are sitting so silently, like they're afraid. I realise I'm afraid too. I realise slowly that the wallpapers are faded and half molded. The floor creaks and the roof rattles. Motheaten curtains move ghostlike in the drift that sneakes throught the windows. Tv across the room is older than I remembered. I can't shut my eyes, altho I know I should. I'm afraid to look. Terrified. It's going to make us mad and when the sun sets, the portal opens all the way and we will be gone. The film is only making us ready for that, it isn't meant for the eyes of a human, not for the eyes of a child.
I can't stop watching.

It can't be described, it's only ideas. Satanistic, unspeakable evil as images that you can't turn away from and they sink into my mind like acid. Someone is screaming and I can't make out who it is. The only thing I see, are those pictures, so the screamer might as well be me, or then some other of the children.

Only one sane thought passes through my mind.
Why did I want to open the Pandora's box?