I'm beggining to tie my ideas together for a novel

Dormancy​

My mind is my sanctuary. A sacred place where I hide from the real world, yet I do not know what I am hiding from and which world is the real world, is the dream world but a nightmare or am I living in one and do I seek refuge in the dream world? These are unanswered questions to what I am.
I stand machanically staring into the descending mirror, deepening in my thoughts, thinking about myself and the world I live in. Surrounding me is a tenebrous room concealing the cravasses of insignificant items. In this life, I live in repetition of daily tasks and a lingering curse of an ignorant tiredness, even now my eyelids hold concrete weighing me down desiring deep lethargy.
By day I work in a factory producing vehicle parts among several sleep craving zombies. Routinely I control the machines as a puppeteer with puppets, Repeating the same thing over and over, show by show, until the resevoir of joy dries up. And today was one of those days
In this world I feel no emotions...I am neutral
I turn against the mirror, now polar to a stone matress bed, ready to repose, fearing of the location where I will wake up in the morning.
I career forward, with a single step I am forced to stop by a cold drowning superstition, pulling the temperature down rapidily. Shivering, rubbing my hand together for insulation, a black shadow lays before my feet. Unable to move I gape at the shadow as paranoia bullies me to locomate. My legs make a stubborn signal of ignorance. The shadow embosses into a lump, a lump growing taller intensely, blistering my view, still ever growing, my mind visually analyzes the shadow, upon sudden recognition I soon realise this shadow is no shadow, but a black cloak worn by something appearing from nowhere. Paralyzed I close my eyes denying what was going on, hoping to wake up in a land far away, but hope dies away in my dithering soul. With a living curiosity I open my eyes once again, there, gargantuous, standing before me a spectral figure gripping tight a scythe, immediate conclusions point only to Death. He has come for me, but how did I die? I see no recall of the event of death, no! I am not dead. Denial gives my muscles motion once again, I haste out of my apartment door, down the hall and sprint at optimum speed down the stairs and fiercefully out of the entrance. I come to an almost sudden halt, seeing the industrial town I have become accustomed to no longer exists, replacing it, skulks a downward spiral trailing down the abyss, fearfully I abscond down the spiral. Never ending I carry on, hoping to wake up in another place, trying to tear my self away from this nightmare, but what if this nightmare is real, am I really running from Death? Is it really my time to go? Exhausted, I cease running, for recovery, panting with my hands on knees. Nervous and frightened as apocalyptic denticulate shades circle me like vultures over a dying animal. I am not dead!
Confused, I observe my surroundings looking for an escape route, it is ineviatable, I face my fate, boldy standing straight keeping my eyes acute to the reapperance of Death. He holds his scythe high. Ready to strike. I close my eyes to make the pain more bearable. I wait for the pain. I feel no pain. I stand sightless waiting for it all to end. Still nothing. Gradually my eyes open, no longer does death prepare to take my life, but a bright white light, I no longer stand strenuously, but lay comfortably, no longer do I feel scared, but feel warm. I can hear voices drifting away into the distance as my vision clears up, this white light is the cushoined ceiling smiling back at me. I try to stand up but no success as my hands are tied by white coloured clothing. This is it, I am in the safe world, the happier place, as once again I return to reality, which strikes me cold discolouring my face, there is no emotionless plain, no outside fearful abyss swarmed with spectres. Relieved by the white softness of a box around me, I finally understand what is real again.
For now.

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White light secretes from the holes of the black firmament above, with no cloud to be seen. Such a pure evening! I lay on the grass atop a great cliff. Beside me, the most precious being, whose aesthetic allure exceeds all other’s, my lover. Mother Nature has kindly paid tribute to this night with her bountiful beauty, for no better could beset the setting for the event I am about to present.

I raise my hand, attempting to pull myself to a vertical position, looking over her body. Dropping my jaw to speak, yet no words become of me. An outbreak of nervousness paralyzes my body and feelings of sickness conquer my stomach, blood withdraws from all visible appearance. I cannot believe it! I had prepared for this moment, paced it many times through my mind, but no matter of cognition prepared my state of mind for this. Such a strange thing this may be, I tell her everything, I can tell her anything that my mind is ever able to conceive for her. But not one word from the heart. I cannot even utter the few most important lines I’ll ever want to say to her.

“Are you alright?”

Damn! She has noticed something, if I do not say it now; I would have missed the chance. I force a pulse of adrenaline, enough confidence to turn to her and proceed as planned

“You eyes glisten, blue as the…”

That sounds worse out loud than it does inside of your head. God damn it! Such an array of cliché imagery passes from my tongue, how could I have been so callas to even think of using such words. Her elegant radiance shall not be insulted with such a bland comparison. Her face begins to glow with a confused blush, aware of what I am trying to say, yet knowing I am finding it difficult to do so and I do not wish to disappoint her by turning away. Thoughts rush through my head, stalling no more; I speak the words as I am being fed with emotion from her two beautiful, eyes.

“If I were to take the moon, the waterfall and the rose.” So far so good. “I could present to you a cliché of words; compare you to such items, for you are not an item, but a being. For no rose, no moon or no stream of running water could at its best make me feel the same way that you make me. There is no meadow that could ever make me gasp as much as I do when I look at you, for your beauty is exterior, interior and in its purest form, for your imperfections are perfections in the eyes of those around you. It would be an inferior thought to compare you to anything, for everything around you should attempt to be as wonderful, but nothing could ever by as wonderful as you. Will you shine that splendour and make me the happiest man on earth, by accepting my proposal in marriage?”

I pull out a box from within my pocket and present the ring inside to her. Her face is lightened by her red blush and cute smile as her eyes glisten with tear soaked brightness.

She bows her head for a moment to process my proposal and to back to me with a larger smile.

“Yes.” She embraces me with an enthusiastic hug. Satisfaction, fulfilment and the happiest pleasure engulfs me. For Christ sakes she said yes! She indeed has made me that happiest man on the planet!

We stand together, holding hands as we trail down the cliff path towards the waterfall, the same waterfall we used to visit as children. Ever since then, this place has been our secret get together, where we spend many times together, along at peace with Mother Nature paying no burden. I can imagine the two of us having our honey moon camped out here, so on that night, we can share our love under that waterfall, officially as a married couple.

Together we pass under the watery curtains that act as the portal to our own little ‘world’. Facing each other we take both of our hands and kneel into the water. Up to the top of her skirt is soaked and the same for my trousers, with a cool sensation running from the blood in my legs into the torso where it is warmed. She grins at me once more. Without speaking, her face tells me how happy she knows that we shall marry. I can see her sudden thoughts of how wonderful our wedding will be and the lives we have ahead of us together, because I know I am.

All light fades from the chamber, my lover fading from my vision. What on earth is happening? Where is she? Where am I? The darkness dissipates light to the extent where I am not conscious of my own presence.

Sirens scream the waling cry of a soul reaping wraith in the midst of the night. All presence reawakens back in that chamber behind the waterfall. The water is painted blood red and before me lays a body. No! It cannot be! There floats the lifeless pale white body of my love. What happened? Who could do such a thing? Bastards! I’ll kill them. How could the worst of all things happen on the most wonderful night?

I look down to my hands, glaring open eyed at all of the blood. Realisation and guilt strikes me fiercely. There was no one there, no signs that there were no third party, just myself and my bloodied hands. I had done this. I had killed my lover. But how? But why? And why can’t I remember a damn thing! I killed my own lover, yet I cannot recall a single fragment of the event that took place. This is insane. I excrete a roar of a self inflicting violent curse as the sirens draw near. I hope they sentence me to a life of hell, for I have committed the ultimate sin, for there is no amount of pain, torture or suffering that can suffice.

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