UnSeelie Dreams IX

Sweat poured down his face as he jerked his hand off the tapestry. "Fuck!" He cried out in pain as the flesh was stripped from his palm. Dizzy with horror, he watched as the fabric incorporated the bloody tissue into the threads.

He gripped his injured hand tightly to his chest since he had nothing to wrap it with, and apparently, anything of cloth in the hall could only cause more damage, he just wasn't going to take that chance.

The parasite on his left cheek bone burrowed deeper as his face contracted in pain. He nearly fell to his knees, but held fast against the on slaught. Her sloe eyed amber gaze still called out for him to come to her, but he knew now she was a trap. He cautiously moved away from the tapestries back to the center of the hall, trying to not look at them, at her. He tasted the acidic bile in the back of his throat as the next picture depicted the hounds tearing the unicorn apart for her delight.

His cheek twitched again in an almost 'I told you so' manner, which made him grimace. "Shut up." he muttered under his breath to the fluttering of its wings.

Wolves and butterfies. The columns kept pace with him as he passed them by and the room began to darken again with each of his steps. He did his level best to ignore them all. Not happening, he thought to himself. You won't catch me again.

Laughter filled his head like a thousand voices surrounding him. He tried to turn around to look behind him but instinct or was it something else paralysed him when he attempted to.

"Who's there?" but he found only silence in return. The hall seemed to go on forever. He closed his eyes, his injured hand throbbed, at least the bleeding had stopped. The pain was merciless and he had no idea how deep the cuts ran since he couldn't bring himself to look. Exhausted, he continueed to trudge down the hall, blood dripping on the marble below.

Open your eyes, the voice commanded. Unwillingly, he did so and found that he was at the end of the line. The room dead ended into scarlet walls all around him. What had happened to the columns? A silver framed mirror stood against the wall facing him, and he was shocked by the image he saw there. The man who stared back at him was haggard and worn, dirt encrusted into body, face, and ripped clothes.

He noticed the man had one brown eye and one tri-colored with golden hues, he reached out to touch that face, the left side blacken except for the monarch butterfly wings imprinted on the cheek bone. Remembering the injury, he took his hand away, smearing blood down the shiny surface. He gazed mesmerized by the blood, tissue, and white of bone. Was this real?

With his good hand, he touched the left side of his face. He could feel the wings beneath his skin, the insect legs moving away and digging down deeper with just the merest pressure. Was this insanity? he wondered.

Something in the mirror flickered and he looked up, the room behind him was no longer empty.