The Serpent
[Every great evil
has a humble beginning]

Gray

It was dark, so dark that there wasn't a word to explain the opposite, because here-in this dark place no such thing existed.

Tom felt like he was being squished from every side, and could only move very limited.
He couldn't breathe, yet he felt no urge to gasp for air.

He deeply despised this place- this place that made him feel as helpless as a newly born child.
Tom hated this gray and black place that made him feel inferior and dependent.

Suddenly, Tom heard something hammering above him.

It was warm here, usually much too warm.
Often he wanted to get out, but the time was not ripe.

He listened.

His environment was quiet, but he could often hear a soft whimper, a someone seemed to be crying and talking to itself.
Sometimes Tom's body seemed to tremble, while the voice kept crying.
From time to time he could hear echo-like sounds, as if something bulging against his wall.

In those moments he impatiently tried to stretch, but the room in which he found himself was much too small, and his strivings were often followed by the screams of the other voice.

While he lay motionless in this 'room', Tom often thought about why he was stuck there, why he didn't know where he was, how he had gotten there, and how he could escape, during that time many clashed many feelings to him.

A deep pain pierced him every day of his life.
He was alone.
Whenever he thought that it couldn't get any worse, he was seized by a deep despair that threatened to suffocate him.

A nightmare.
He was trapped.

He felt himself getting weaker, while something deep inside him seemed to be gaining more, and more strength.
No, he wanted to get out, he had to get out, cost it what it may.

He was tired, there was no point in his life- everything had lost its meaning.

He felt a pain, a sharp pain which flowed through his whole body and seemed to reach into his soul.

What was that?
His body seems to have a mind of his own.

Where was he?
Where was his body taking him?
Who was making him do this?

He had never felt such terrible pain before.

If only he could see his surroundings...

He wanted to die.
He could feel death.
Death was there, he was close, Tom could feel his breath.

Breathing became even more difficult for Tom.

Death, which came closer to him, stepped over him and ignored him, instead he leaned over another soul.

Tom, however, was 'released'.

This something- to which Tom couldn't give a name, this thing seemed to crush his body, the pain, the endless sadistic pain, that seemed to have taken control over him, it surrounded him like something alien.

Tom felt the incessant urge to breathe.
Under the pain, Tom could feel something cool washing over him.

He was 'free' and he realised that the excitations of his mind, which he called 'feelings' had not always been his own.

Suddenly Tom was torn from his dream.
He was soaking wet and panting.
Again this nightmare, he thought.
The 'feelings' and the pain were particularly hard to cope with this time.

Tom lay still on his bed and stared at the gray blanket.
The small bare room, which he knew was almost as dark as his dream. There were no windows where he could look out from.

Why was he sentenced to this dream so often?

No one was there, who could answer his questions...