The place deep within the centre of the brain had started itching again. It was maddenning, an itch that was was somehow both physical and psychological at the same time. And the more i thought about it, the more it seemed to pulse and throb and grow, like an alien mass of jelly that i had seen in those thousands of sci-fi flicks of the 70s.
I realised that i was slowly going mad. I could actually visualise myself cowering in the corner of a room, furiously scratching my head and face, drawing blood, bashing my head against the wall, lashing my back with a belt, trying to make my brain forget about the itch, trying to bring it back from the brink of that bottomless black void it was tottering on the edge on, a void from which there was no clawing back, a void at the bottom of which slithered silent, cold things, things one couldnt hear but can feel sliding up your body, surely finding out the orifices of your body and making their way up to the brain, as if guided by some beaming signal sent out by the rotting, metling brain.
...to be continued (maybe)
2 comments:
I can empathise very much.. May be I can continue this post..
erm...fiction..maybe will culminate in a novel 20 yrs down the line...my mental state hasn't reached this state..yet.
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