The faces from the bar glared back at him. Probing and silently asking for a reason. They haunted his sleep. They would not allow him to rest his mind. The asking for forgiveness, something he could not give, dogged him every moment.
He did not mean for them to be angry. In fact he didn’t even know they existed. But yet here they were. Again. He could not deny their being real at this point. Sleep came to him in fits and smoldering embers of memory. The burning of their stares stole the blood from his heart and made his soul a twisted charred remnant of what it once was.
Demons of his conscious crept in and attacked him. They came at night, when he was alone, as always. He fought them off, talon and wing beating him down. Each time it was more and more of a challenge to keep them away from him. But he always managed to survive. But the imps took a little piece of him every time they left.
He hoped he took a part of them as well.
Tags: Writing
