Exorcism

image by Rick Mobbs – Mine Enemy Grows Older

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Icy fingertips comb through thinning hair, tracing their nails heavily through a burning scalp. Palm pressed against raging forehead, fingers grind into opposing temples. Eyelids pressed shut conceal twisted rivers of blood behind a veil of blackness. Diving desperately inward, I seek liberty, but find only an infinite spiral into the screaming pit of my lungs. The nauseating threat of madness forces confession from my eyes. Glaring through a steamy haze upon moonlit silhouettes, I find no source of comfort, nor source of inspiration. I reach out to that bright lunar sphere with a possessed imagination that mocks my naïve attempt. “You are a fool”, he laughs disdainfully. “You cannot escape me. Look back upon your writings and you will see”.
“No”, I protest angrily as I reach for my spear. “Your ghosts, your pretences, can all go to hell”.
With one murderous thrust, I pierce the throat of my adversary. Shocked, disbelieving eyes stare back at me across the shaft of my bloodstained weapon.
“I gave you the power to recognise beauty…”, says he with a garbled dying breath.
“Thank you”, I offer as I drop the lifeless body to the earth, and turn away.
“And now, in peaceful solitude, I shall enjoy that beauty”.

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by Brad Frederiksen

for

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Sunday Scribblings

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Mine Enemy Grows Older

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The dreaded fog descended this week, but thanks to all of the great prompts, and my recognition that quite a few of you have been facing the same demon, I had plenty of inspiration to work with. Many thanks.