The night was unnervingly quiet, broken exclusively by a periodic stirring of dry leaves and the far off yelling of a homeless canine. It was winter, and the virus bothered my bones as I headed back home through a rear entryway that slices through a neglected area of town. I had pursued this faster route previously, yet that evening, something felt unique — a spooky vibe that made my skin prickle.
As I turned a corner close to an old, rotting distribution center, I saw something that made my heart hammer brutally against my ribcage. A little fire consumed close to a heap of junk, its blazes licking the haziness like a destitute monster. In any case, what held me frozen completely still was seeing three Donkeys waiting around the fire, their heads brought down, their lips moving musically. My eyes enlarged in dismay as I understood — they were eating the consuming coal.
The ashes broke and popped, sending flashes up high, at this point the donkeys appeared to be unaffected. They bit the blazing pieces with a sluggish, purposeful movement, their eyes shining unnaturally in the gleaming light. A solid, harsh smell of consuming hair and tissue filled my noses, making me gag. Yet, they didn't wince. All things considered, they proceeded with their unusual gala, the intensely hot coal bouncing off their dull, inert eyes.
Briefly, my reasonable brain attempted to deal with how the situation was playing out. Was this a deception of some sort? A stunt of the psyche brought about by fatigue? In any case, the snapping flares and the crunching of consuming coals under their teeth affirmed the frightening reality.
Then, at that point, as though detecting my presence, one of the donkeys lifted its head. Its face was shockingly human-like, the lips twisting in seemingly a bizarre smile. Its eyes locked onto mine — profound, dark voids that appeared to pull me in. My breath hitched as an odd, throaty sound got away from its throat, not the bawl of a donkey but rather something… else. Something not of this world.
My legs shouted at me to run, yet dread secured me to the ground. The other donkey knocked some people's socks off toward me, their mouths actually loaded up with consuming coal, their breath delivering little wisps of smoke into the virus air. The unnatural smile on their countenances augmented as though they were entertained by my shock.
Then, at that point, all of a sudden, the biggest of the three donkeys moved forward. Its hooves rattled against the substantial, repeating unnaturally clearly in the dead quiet of the evening. With each step it took, the fire behind it darkened, as though the flares feared it. My body at long last broke liberated from the loss of motion of dread, and I staggered in reverse, my heart beating so uproariously I figured it would explode.
I pivoted suddenly and ran, my breath coming in worn out wheezes. The back street extended perpetually before me, the haziness squeezing in from all sides. I tried not to think back, apprehensive that assuming I did, I would see those eyes — those massive, abysses of darkness gazing back at me.
At the point when I at last burst out onto the central avenue, gasping and soaked in cool perspiration, I constrained myself to look behind me. The back street was unfilled. The fire was no more. There was no hint of the donkeys or their unholy gala.
Had I envisioned it? A mental trip welcomed on by weariness? Be that as it may, as I remained there, attempting to contend my breathing, a severe taste filled my mouth — like the leftovers of smoke. And afterward I saw the soles of my shoes, dissolved marginally at the edges as though I had stood excessively near a fire.
Right up to the present day, I don't have any idea what I saw that evening. Nobody accepts me when I enlighten them concerning the donkeys eating consuming coal. They dismiss it as a bad dream or an invention of my creative mind. Be that as it may, I understand what I saw. Also, at times, late around evening time, when the air is still and the world is quiet, I hear it once more — that sluggish, musical biting. Furthermore, I supplicate that I at absolutely no point ever see those eyes in the future.
what if you think you died.....but your still alive
The night was unnervingly quiet, broken exclusively by a periodic stirring of dry leaves and the far off yelling of a homeless canine. It was winter, and the virus bothered my bones as I headed back home through a rear entryway that slices through a neglected area of town. I had pursued this faster route previously, yet that evening, something felt unique — a spooky vibe that made my skin prickle.
As I turned a corner close to an old, rotting distribution center, I saw something that made my heart hammer brutally against my ribcage. A little fire consumed close to a heap of junk, its blazes licking the haziness like a destitute monster. In any case, what held me frozen completely still was seeing three Donkeys waiting around the fire, their heads brought down, their lips moving musically. My eyes enlarged in dismay as I understood — they were eating the consuming coal.
The ashes broke and popped, sending flashes up high, at this point the donkeys appeared to be unaffected. They bit the blazing pieces with a sluggish, purposeful movement, their eyes shining unnaturally in the gleaming light. A solid, harsh smell of consuming hair and tissue filled my noses, making me gag. Yet, they didn't wince. All things considered, they proceeded with their unusual gala, the intensely hot coal bouncing off their dull, inert eyes.
Briefly, my reasonable brain attempted to deal with how the situation was playing out. Was this a deception of some sort? A stunt of the psyche brought about by fatigue? In any case, the snapping flares and the crunching of consuming coals under their teeth affirmed the frightening reality.
Then, at that point, as though detecting my presence, one of the donkeys lifted its head. Its face was shockingly human-like, the lips twisting in seemingly a bizarre smile. Its eyes locked onto mine — profound, dark voids that appeared to pull me in. My breath hitched as an odd, throaty sound got away from its throat, not the bawl of a donkey but rather something… else. Something not of this world.
My legs shouted at me to run, yet dread secured me to the ground. The other donkey knocked some people's socks off toward me, their mouths actually loaded up with consuming coal, their breath delivering little wisps of smoke into the virus air. The unnatural smile on their countenances augmented as though they were entertained by my shock.
Then, at that point, all of a sudden, the biggest of the three donkeys moved forward. Its hooves rattled against the substantial, repeating unnaturally clearly in the dead quiet of the evening. With each step it took, the fire behind it darkened, as though the flares feared it. My body at long last broke liberated from the loss of motion of dread, and I staggered in reverse, my heart beating so uproariously I figured it would explode.
I pivoted suddenly and ran, my breath coming in worn out wheezes. The back street extended perpetually before me, the haziness squeezing in from all sides. I tried not to think back, apprehensive that assuming I did, I would see those eyes — those massive, abysses of darkness gazing back at me.
At the point when I at last burst out onto the central avenue, gasping and soaked in cool perspiration, I constrained myself to look behind me. The back street was unfilled. The fire was no more. There was no hint of the donkeys or their unholy gala.
Had I envisioned it? A mental trip welcomed on by weariness? Be that as it may, as I remained there, attempting to contend my breathing, a severe taste filled my mouth — like the leftovers of smoke. And afterward I saw the soles of my shoes, dissolved marginally at the edges as though I had stood excessively near a fire.
Right up to the present day, I don't have any idea what I saw that evening. Nobody accepts me when I enlighten them concerning the donkeys eating consuming coal. They dismiss it as a bad dream or an invention of my creative mind. Be that as it may, I understand what I saw. Also, at times, late around evening time, when the air is still and the world is quiet, I hear it once more — that sluggish, musical biting. Furthermore, I supplicate that I at absolutely no point ever see those eyes in the future.
Scheduled for March 6th 👍
makes sense