Living Death (Pt 1.)

Kurt saw it when he turned off the lights. Those same eyes that stared into his soul each night. Red, evil, dripping with death. The muscular figure held a knife in his hand that he rotated with a sinister glee. The apparition fixated his eyes on Kurt's, reaching a strong hand toward him. Kurt reached toward the being, feeling a cold shield between his hand and the sinister figure's. He retracted his hand as the figure snarled, arm flexing in retraction, his gleaming white teeth reflecting through the darkness. He stared into perfection, into evil, into the enticement of death.

The being tightened his grip on the handle from which the steel blade extended. Tracing the blade with his tongue, the figure never lost sight of his helpless prey. Kurt found himself trapped, dissociated. The feeling was unlike any he had experienced outside the lonely darkness. Confusion enveloped the frightened man as he vacantly stared at the being before him. He fearfully scanned the familiar body from head to toe, his egoistic gaze unwavering in its vacancy.

Kurt was overcome with a series of images. He saw the flashes of mayhem as the vignettes slid in and out of his consciousness, each scene reflecting a gruesome tapestry that would take a dedicated lifetime to weave. Only the figure remained consistent, the perfect physicality and dangerous psyche intact, surrounded by the faces of the recently lifeless. Enticing unbearability was interrupted by a light rapping on the door. The images spiraled away into their unidentifiable vortex, leaving Kurt once again staring into the eyes of this fantasy figure from the most debased of mental recesses.

Kurt turned on the light. The figure's expression softened into a smile as he replaced the knife in a nearby cabinet. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Kurt turned from the mirror and walked back into his lover's room.