Incubus

A faint glimmer of consciousness is birthed into the abyss, twisting and turning, it coils in rage and anger at being taken from it’s peaceful state of nonexistence into the reality that is pain. It is hate, it is abhorrent, it’s vengeful glow burns brighter as the venomous spite courses through the entity’s existence. Madness claws the thoughts as the wild being is trapped between total nothingness and complete being. The growing expression screams as tears itself apart, clawing at its own vague and opaque form, shreds of itself burn hot and vicious. The consciousness, the idea, the being is trapped in a cyclone of self destruction, unable to fully destroy itself and unable to complete the transition into full life. The storm merely grows in fury and pain until something cracks. It pauses, waiting for itself to break when it realises the crack was from within, not in itself. Some light? An answer? It does not fathom but it seeps through and begins to know.

Jennifer’s eyes opened. She didn’t shoot awake or scream, she was not shaken to her very core or even worried.  It was just time to wake. Jennifer stretched in her bed, a slight perturbed feeling nagging the back of her mind, the half remembered images of her dream evaporating quickly as the consciousness of the daytime rose. The bed Jennifer lay in always felt too large, like her sleek frame was being engulfed in a monster made of comforting clothe and feathers.
The room was still mostly dark, the curtains, thick and heavy, were still drawn, pressing out most of the coming morn. Jennifer liked the darkness. It wasn’t that the light of the morning bothered her, she just felt at ease without it. The glowing red numbers of the alarm clock announced it was seven minutes past six am. Jennifer knew in just under eight minutes, the alarm would switch on. Jennifer also knew that in just under seven minutes she would turn it off before it has the chance to ring out. She hadn’t needed that alarm in over four years, but nevertheless, she would turn it back on before she went to sleep.

Jennifer shuffled over to the side of the bed and stood up. Her bare calves touching the side of the bed, the old wood beaten and marked by time and usage. The threadbare carpet comfortingly rough on the soles of her feet. The nightshirt Jennifer wore was draped on her body, ill fitting and loose, shimmied about her as she strode towards her closet and gazed at herself with a sigh. Jennifer knew she was losing weight, she also knew a lot of girls, hell, a lot of women would kill to just lose weight without trying, but she knew she was starting to look starved. Jennifer knew she meant to eat the right amount and did so, but could only find herself thinner every day.
Jennifer picked out a t-shirt, a buttoned shirt to wear open over the top and loose jeans to cover her disappearing self. She placed her choice that day’s clothes on a large menagerie of stuffed animals that were once loved and bought over bitterly and now laid in an uncared for mountain in the corner of her room. Jennifer reached the wooden drawers, switched off the alarm that rested atop and pulled a drawer to make a choice of panties, a bra, sadly, still not needed Jennifer thought as she considered her undeveloped chest.

 Jennifer bent to pull her panties on and came to eye contact with a photo in a gilded green frame. Two little blonde girls with long hair stood in front of their parents, a healthy looking couple, father looking to burst with pride to the camera with a cap on his head, mother as brilliantly blonde as her daughters looking at her husband.