So Quoth the Kraven

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"Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny." -- unknown

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results - Albert Einstein

chains
2001-08-18 - 10:56 p.m.

I stared up at the ceiling. I was sleeping, but in my dream I stared at the ceiling that was not there. I was laying on my back in the living room. The floor was an odd mix of softness and hardness. It was not like my floor at all, but the room was mine. The ceiling was missing. In its place was a vacuum of darkness. Somehow I knew it was a dream and that my ceiling was not really gone and I was not really laying on the floor of living room, perhaps it was simply logic. Still I stared and became quite scared. Something was very, very wrong. There was no reason my ceiling should be missing. If it was then I should be seeing stars. I live on the top floor and should have been enjoying a nice star lit night. Instead I was becoming more and more scared. My fear reached an almost feverish intensity, or so I thought. Iďż˝m not sure how fear can be that way, but thatďż˝s what I thought. I guess my reasoning ability only extends so far in dreams. I knew it was a dream, but I already said that. I licked my lips and wondered what the fuck was going on. I wondered who took my ceiling away and if this would affect my security deposit. I wondered how what I would say when I woke up and had to call my landlord. I hoped it didnďż˝t rain. All of which was absurd since I knew the ceiling was still there. Then I wondered what it was that was above me and why I was so scared. I couldnďż˝t be held responsible for the ceiling disappearing, it was a dream and I couldnďż˝t control a dream. I clearly was not accountable for the absent ceiling. Still I grew scared. I began to feel sweat forming on my forehead. I was cold, so I knew it was cold sweat. Cold sweats in dreams are never a good thing. Along with the fear I began to become concerned. I wondered if my alarm clock was close to going off. I knew it wasnďż˝t because I always woke up right before it did. I hate the sound of my alarm clock. I havenďż˝t heard it in over a month. Pavlov would be proud. That didnďż˝t change the fact that I was laying on my floor in a cold sweat staring at a ceiling that wasnďż˝t there. My stomach felt queasy. I licked my lips again and wondered if they were chapped. It was cold inside my room; perhaps it wasnďż˝t a cold sweat after all. Perhaps I was just sweating in a cold room. Who knows, itďż˝s just a dream. I heard this strange sound. I have no idea what it was, but I heard it twice again. I felt my skin begin to crawl, which is not exactly a pleasant thing. Every piece of skin has itďż˝s home and thatďż˝s where it should stay. Thereďż˝s no need for skin to go crawling this way and that all about my body. I became worried the skin of my elbow would settle on my forehead. That would be difficult to explain. I cleared my head, as best I could, of all this nonsense and set about staring purposefully at the ceiling that was not there. I wanted to see some clue, to figure out who had lifted it and why. I reasoned I should have been left a note or letter of some kind. Itďż˝s not nice at all to take a personďż˝s ceiling and not explain why. I could see if it was gone to be repaired, but I hadnďż˝t called the ceiling repairman. I doubted theyďż˝d have to take it off the walls to fix it anyway. It didnďż˝t to logical, but that was the best I had, unless someone had stolen my ceiling. It was a nice enough ceiling I suppose. It was white with those nubs of paint, all those little droplets that had dried before they had had a chance to drop. You know the sort I mean. No cracks and it didnďż˝t leak, so it was perfectly serviceable. I became positive it wasnďż˝t gone for repairs. That left someone had stolen it or a new idea that it wasnďż˝t just gone, but that a gateway to another dimension had opened up. This gateway, as dimensional gateways are wont to do, swallowed up my ceiling, perfectly normal and innocent thing for a dimensional gateway to do. I definitely couldnďż˝t be held responsible for that and it did explain my growing fear. I decided it was time to either wake up or leave the floor. I was unable to do either. It seems my body, knowing I was asleep, had decided that it didnďż˝t have follow directions from my brain. I considered things and thatďż˝s the exact moment it dawned on me that I had bigger issues to deal with. If there was, as I suspected, a dimensional gateway hovering open above me then I had best hope for something nice to come out of it. I know from all the movies, Iďż˝ve seen that this is seldom the case. That fact explained the fear and the sweating. I heard that sound again and this time I knew what it was. It was the sound of chains or something very like chains. It didnďż˝t strike me as a good sound. It struck me as a very bad sound indeed. A cool draft blew down on me from the missing ceiling and I felt chills run up and down my body. It was now that I realized I was laying on the floor of my living room naked. I felt very vulnerable. I was quite sure something most unpleasant was about to happen and I was unable to stop it. For the first time in years, I yearned for my alarm clock. The chain-like things rattled again and I felt true terror. I hadnďż˝t seen or felt anything, other than the cool draft, but I felt terror at the sound of the chains. They were meant for me in a most unpleasant way. I closed my eyes and cringed in anticipation. The chains did not let me down. What happened next is difficult to describe, so let me start with the chains. Each chain was thin, very thin. Each was thin, yet very strong, like piano wire, but made of links, stronger and thinner. There were thousands of them, perhaps more. I didnďż˝t exactly count them. At the end of each chain was a little suction cup. The chains darted with inconceivable speed. They came down from the ceiling, even though my eyes were closed I saw them. The suction cup on the end of each chain latched onto a single hair of my body. Every hair that they could reach had a chain attached to it. My head. My eyebrows. My chest. My arms. My legs. Everything. However many hairs on my body, thatďż˝s how many chains there were, count them if you like. All at once the chains jerked upwards and I was off the floor. I was held, suspended above the floor, by each chain secured to each hair on my body. It was most unpleasant. I screamed in pain, as all at once my brain was flooded with the sensation of every single hair of my body being pulled at once.

It was a most unpleasant way to wake up. No 1am anchovy pizzas while watching specials on giant squids just after watching the original Hellraiser.

(this way) / (that way)

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