Quivering Blades

An eternity wasted, drenched in hopeless nothingness, longing for comfort and solace. In the room filled with charcoal shadows and desolate space void of light, the sound of quivering blades punctures the silence. His limbs and joints ache as the veins in his back firmly graze the spinal cord. From the innermost realms of his mouth, near the molars, the taste buds keenly pick up the pungent taste of cloves. A high-pitch mechanical buzz grows in decibels, until finally – a burst. For the first time in ages his irises see light. A phosphorescent, whimsical entity descends like a feather from the blackness above, entering into the light. It is sustained in mid-air by the quivering blades. The fantastical being overtakes his restraint and he reaches out with his hands to confirm its existence, as well as his own. Just as the tips of his fingers reach the ghostly specter it dissolves into snow, and the light recedes behind the curtain of opaque permafrost.