An untitled dream work…

How do I tell a story of night, what words would truly express the moment’s horror? Lend me your thoughts and I will borrow you my imagination, if only for you to experience fully the act that is to ensue.
This is a story of  one, once man…
Now immortal…
One cursed…

(play as you read)

Steal away with me into the night

to a Bastion beyond  many hills, where

darkness looms, time stands still

a realm of the no longer beating heart

to the land of  a damned immortal

… a creatures of the night

Walk with me through these dark corridors

Hold your torch o so tightly…

Its fainting walls whispering tales of centuries

Weakened structures caked with dust

Listen to the moaning winds…

or could it be the many ghosts that hunt its halls?

Into the belly of the fortress we make our  way,

Down winding stairways,

through darkened passages

Hold your torch O so tightly…

Come to rest at the foot of iron gates, shut.

Peer through the gaps to find a  roofless chamber

its filthy, cracked walls bare no corners.

Moon beams pierce the darkness of this dungeon devoid of shade.

At first sight  we see nothing but space and time,

a visiting rodent sneaks a look through the cracks.

Focus still and bring your attention to the heap of ash on the stoney grounds.

Ashes  and Silence…

A scream suddenly breaks through the hush

Shrieks that make even the moaning winds give ear

The remains slowly taking form.

Life reaching  from the depths of hell

… or is it… life?


as dust is molded into flesh and bone.

With every capillary formed, for

every flesh mounted are the painful howls 

and constricting twists and turns…

FINALLY! … Finally, returns the hush,

the transformation lay still and

we hear the winds resume its tales

The object becomes animate, as

though awoken from Hades grip.

Sitting erect, the being looks towards the gate, towards

you and I

Behold the paleness of his face, his

eyes cold as death and yet divulging torment, and

with such deep sorrow he says

This is my fate did you know

to be cursed as Prometheus

Yet even he bore a better fate than I.

For I already damned am therefore damned a second time.

Once man, now soulless creature of evening…

He sites his noble visitor making its way back into the cracks

and with the agility of a lioness he pounces.

The meal he finishes all too quickly.

Signaling in our direction he speaks once again

You would be my first choice but for these accursed bars…

hence reduced to a scavenger am I…

His emaciated form circles the room in an almost zombie like manner

He awaits the Sun…

I await the sun…

The night sky,

She is beautiful is she not?

Day light greets me and

yet I can say very light of it majesty but

plenty of its horror

In this  prison, naked to the sky

condemned am I to be tortured as Helios rages on.

My flesh melts before my very eyes

and what is left of my soul is torn to a thousand pieces

His laments, shrill…

What would Prometheus know of pain?!

Zeus is less a devil than my captor!… These walls!

O that my ashes be scattered to the four winds to end my suffering!


His monologue is halted by the flicker of light from the east.

Dawn approaches, and

with it his executioner … A ball of fire

His eyes resume the horror from the moment he woke

Now frantically  wandering the room as though in search of a place to hide,

Psychological torture besest him as he envisages the pain soon to come.

We watch as though through a peep hole  of a sanitarium, this

tortured soul kicking and screaming, violently

throwing himself against the chamber walls

(…. So this is the cause of such filth and wreckage)

No white, softly padded walls to cushion his impact,

No straight jacket to prevent him cutting and scratching, that

he does in order to sensitize himself towards the impending affliction.

With the last vestige of courage he raises his voice:


 He then curls up like a child in where he best assumes a corner

as one defeated.

Cradling himself he mutters:

No more, No more…

The Sun slowly bearing its face, its

rays descend the Vampire’s uncovered tomb.

Cradling even faster,

His words more audios





Witness his backward transition

Melting flesh and bone,

to blood,

to ash.

Torturous screams return this shredded soul once again to temporary death.

A heap of dust once more, Silence

fills the room

Helios smiles down on what is left of our performer

As all the world is a stage

We applaud, You and I, and

then depart through the dark and twisted maze

of imagination’s fort.

Hold your torch o so tightly

“Everything you can imagine is real.”
Pablo Picasso

20 comments on “An untitled dream work…

  1. !!!!!!
    Oh it should be performed!!!
    but really – !!!!!
    You are in a new area now – wonderful – love the way you pushed the barriers and came here – its an orchestra of words and emotions – a dark, mysterious orchestral nightmare, fantasy, mini epic.
    My dear friend – if this was written 100 years ago it would be a classic now, found in anthologies, alongside Bram Stoker’s Dracula, and Shelley’s Frankenstein.

  2. oh man, grabbing that torch…this is frickin awesome! like edgar allen awesome! you def bring us right in with this one…and i would echoe that i would love to hear it…and think you would bring it alive all the more….

  3. I still hear the guttural sounds emanating from the creature, filling the void, as it burns and goose bumps abound all over me. This is very dark and very well scripted, you take us by our scared, sweaty hands and walk us into hell through the words of your craft. I honestly admire your brilliance.

Thanks for stopping by!!! Feel free to tell me how you feel about this piece :)

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