'The monsters were here again' She whispered into her knees, her voice shaky and adulterated with fear. The thing about her nightmares, the thing that hurt most, was the fact they weren't vanquished with the sunlight. She awoke to from the blood curtailing mutters of her mind, to find the monsters still there. A different kind of monster, not the ones with tails and teeth, but the ones far, far worse. They spit acid with their words, and twist their tales and lies. They are the monsters from are nightmares, the ones that don't end with the night.

Remember how you use to say,

That ‘All lines will lead away’,

That ‘nothing on earth can make me stay’,

And yet you stayed here.

We never thought you’d disappear.

Although the situation was truly a depressing one;

For me, dear reader, there was one truly unfortunate factor in the event: The setting.

Despite the fact the room it’s self was perfectly adequate- well furnished, unostentatiously colored, and an averagely sized space- it found itself being the most depressing component in the entire, enviable, event. This, of course, was no fault of the room itself. Its dull beige walls spanned around the room, catching and smothering the repetitive sound of the ever rattling pipes…

The floor was coated in a dull light brown. It had been installed in the late ’90s, and arguably hadn’t been cleaned well since.

The continuous rain of the climate cried and dripped its way down to the windowsill. Its constant sound found it’s self harshly contrasted by an inconstant breathing, which could almost be heard in its quite inaudible state as it rasped in its last fleeting moments.

The scene, dear reader, was truly one of melancholy, as is any scene with a soon to be corpse draped across the floor.

Yet this room was otherwise empty.

I suppose it is for the best, that there was no bystander to be plagued with the burden that it is to witness someone descend into death… Yet there was no one there to remember the man who lay dying.

For this man there was no relative to hold his hand, to whisper his final goodbyes to as he lay intruded by their gulps and sobs...

For this man there was no one to kneel crying by his side, watching as the life flashed before his glazed eyes…

For this man there was no one.

The breaths became less constant. They gradually slowed, getting quieter, growing far fainter, each breath was fleeting.

The man’s breath was muffled by the floor.

The man’s corpse was concealed by the walls.

The man’s name was carved in stone.

The man’s being, his spirt, his very soul, was forgotten.

The man died alone, with his eyes glazed open, in search of someone, of anyone!

There was no one.

His eyes stayed open.