• Lids flutter open to the rattling sensation of spider legs down his back, and immediately arctic depths clash with the night sky. Palms brush against the dew coated grass beneath him, and with one hard push limber arms force his chest upright. Jake is on his feet in a matter of seconds. Eyes slowly devour the imagery surrounding him, unaware of his current location. He is enclosed by walls-- walls coated in an earthy green, shaped as a makeshift hallway with alternate openings. Here, there, left, right-- all look endlessly similar. Every direction is bound to lead to the exact unattainable direction.

    Venturing through the maze-like corridors, Jake eventually grows weary of the herbal cage that holds no end. Amusement is found else where, attention drifting toward the stars. Invisible thorns seek his finger tips with barred fangs as digits walk their way over shrubbery-lined wall, but still his trance does not break from the coal-coated sky. A harsh roar erupts from the bowels of the earth, and only now does he meet with the shifting of soil below. His heart jumps in his throat with a startle, hands flailing outward to hold his balance. The ground continues to rumble and shift, shooting adrenaline through his veins like heroin. The tectonic disturbance begins to calm down, and the ground stops shifting. A mere echo of chaos is left behind to throb against his ear drums.

    Something’s coming for me.

    Shrubbery grows taller with each and every step taken forward, branches and twigs spreading out, twisting upwards-- fighting to feed off the moonlight. He can only watch breathlessly as a canopy of tangled weeds form above his head and smother the sky. A thick blanket of noir is eating away the stars. Shadows inching closer and closer until all light is lost, trapped between unseen branches. Darkness is everything now.

    The maze-like corridors formed by the earthy walls are closing in, the corridors narrowing, and though Jake commands his legs to set forth into the black abyss, his will stands frozen. Vines from nowhere slither toward his body and coil around his limbs. The earthy spirit is growing at an infinite rate, reproducing and contorting more of the welted green ropes that spiral up Jake’s torso and around his neck. The texture of the organism is wet and rough, as if he were caressing sediment rocks underwater.

    The vines are pulsating. Each time the heart pounds within the organism, its snake-like hold squeezes tighter and tighter. Every wave of this creature’s life cuts off his circulation. The more Jake struggles the harder the crush, ironically proving the entire battle self afflicted, but giving up isn't an option in that pretty little head of his. He'd rather the plant snap him in half.

    Nothingness pours out through clenched vocal chords as Jake desperately strains for air, his silent screams surrendering their supernatural force, desolating any frequency within earshot to a quiet hum. Something so uncontrollably loud was being manipulated by a god of deafening proportion.

    The smothering punishment thus far has not sufficed the demon's taste for torture. The monstrous limbs whirl around Jake's face with whip like stature, striking until heart wrenching pain cascades numb. Thorns beckon at his limbs and seep into his flesh, sacrificing Jake's blood to the natural mother he so surely wronged.

    Jake tries to scream once more, but again silence erupts over gurgling whimpers for help. His lungs should have burst open ages ago. He can't breathe. Everything that keeps his body functional is slowing down; blood gushing from his wounds like a thick wine. Jake's clothes sop up whatever life stream it can hold, but there's only so much fabric.

    I'm going to die here...

    The soil beneath him churns and grinds as fingers from the past dig their way to the surface. A flowerbed of decay sprouts from a long forgotten seed—the corpses are searching for him. They mock his unfortunate position from within the pitch black; their empty sockets cold and hungry—the ghastly hollow craving his life. These rotten bags of meat found their way from the depths of hell to devour his soul.

    The Fates were toying with his life line, simply unweaving the morsel piece by piece, for surely no one can suffer so long without greeting death. There's evil all around him. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil...
    but that doesn't change the fact that you know it's there.

    This had to be hell. No light, no flame, no end. Jake had been exiled here, this place of no senses, for the rest of eternity-- to die forever. Not regenerate and die as a cycle, but be in this state of climatic pain without ever meeting it's end.

    He's scared now, trying to grasp the concept of his thoughts and stretch them out over oblivion. This most indescribable sensation, this anguish beyond comprehension, is shattering his mind. A subconscious dystopian myth is surging through Jake's head and ripping apart reality-- and as the last shard drips into a pool of figment, a color of unknown reference seeps into his irises. It's something beyond beauty, something so incomprehensible that it's very entity prophets beyond mankind.

    My soul...

    The surrounding demons gawk at the presence with hungry urgings, but the vines are first to strike, uncoiling the entity's host as it does so. Gluttonous gasps for oxygen set forth, every breath hoarse and sweet. He lands roughly on a sea of corpses, dirty claws surfing him farther and farther from the gorgeous sun that had once housed itself inside his temple.

    Setting on an ocean of demons-- his entire self, his soul, slips beneath the dirt surface before his very eyes. An undefinable beauty holds his gaze captive until the final crevice of the underworld devours every last vine and corpse in the surrounding area. The silence breaks with a roaring thud as the earth's crust snaps shut, snapping a hard wisp of wind against Jake's bruised features. The canopy of weeds and earthy greens tare apart. The darkness evaporates. The maze returns to its natural structure. Once again, the night sky is in view.

    Jake drops to his knees, hands kissing the soft soil with a crash, elbows barely capable of holding himself up right. Scratching at the dirt with an aching emptiness, Jake closes his eyes and screams. Clump after clump of cold bedding ball against his fingers--body shaking uncontrollably.

    Liquid droplets pour out through closed lids... slide down long tender lashes... and splash in all his effort.

    Arctic depths clash with nothing, his gaze falling distant and cold. Fingers progressively slow to a soft combing until he stops the digging all together.

    Sitting on his knees... quiet, disgusted, broken, and hollow... something snapped.

    How long before he became hungry?