blooming-artists

 I lay on rough stone, covered in a warm and sticky liquid. Chains clicked back and forth, slicing into my wrists. Blood pooled, but it was not my own. It saturated my dusty clothes, sinking underneath my spine. The world spun around, cloaking me in frustration and dizziness. Voices chanted, but I was too far lost in my own unconsciousness to understand. Snippets of words and other languages flashed before my eyelids and I struggled to keep them open. One voice roared above the others, chanting quickly and with tangible, thick power, coming off of in waves. I screamed as sinister, white hot light burned my vision. It curled inside of me, a vi