Nergal's Journal

[narrative] Home sweet hell
Michael Sharrod and his family moved to Middle Area only a few weeks ago. In their new, suburbian, ranch style dream house he sits alone, in the dark. He's surrounded by boxes still containing all of their belongings. He doesn't know what's going on. He hasn't known, really, since they moved here. The house is old and his parents went down to the basement to 'consecrate' the new place. They've always been strange in private, but he never worried about it. Never worried about it until now.

The smell says they're still down there. Still in the basement. He can't make himself look. He feels like a coward. He wishes his mother were here. He's too old to cry for his mommy, but he can't help it. Everything hurts so bad. His whole body aches and his mind is coming apart, he can feel it. Everything in him is unraveling like a spiderweb being pulled apart in a strong wind. It's blowing away piece by piece.
His lucid hours are few and far between. Most of his life has become a confusing mix of nightmare and a half-reality he watches like a bad art film from behind his own eyes. For now, though, his body is his own. So, he sits huddled against the wall on one corner of his bed, weeping against his knees and wishing he had the strength or the courage to run away. Where would he go, though? Where would he run? Whatever he's running from, it's in him. It's killing him and there's nothing he can do.

Michael misses his parents.
And he hates them.