Sloth

(Here is a sleepy, creepy, little story of mine that I wrote about last year. Best time to read this is in the dark at night haha! You made your dangerous trek through hell’s seven rings. And you thought this one would be easiest, no?)

Gray.

Cold.

What is this place you have fallen into?

Thick fog covers every inch of this area to the point where you can barely see your hands.

And all is silent.

Until you take a step.

A soft sound of metal clinking together. A shift as quiet as the wind. Then a whimper. Or was it hum…?

“Stay a while?” echoes a voice, soft, heart melting. Honey and milk. Has there ever been a more comforting voice? A voice to rest in. To sink in.

To drown in.

The scene of gray is a comforting sight. You can barely detect the faint clinking of metal like silvery bells.

And the smell of vanilla. So sweet it could make you sick. And rot your teeth.

The fog drifts like velvety curtains and what’s before you is a figure. They lay on their side, cushioned under a desaturated, pastel cloud. Cotton candy left on trodden asphalt. Yet still tasting like heaven. How comfy it looks with this person lying atop it.

This person themself carries the same aura of their surroundings. Gray flesh, smooth and round like pillows. A gentle marshmallow face with a pair of tired half-lidded eyes. Draping hair of sleepy fog, and poking out are the ears of a sheep matching the tiniest of horns. So small it could press and press against you, and you wouldn’t even notice your skin breaking until clouds fill your head and darkness overtook.

Their robe, or dress perhaps, most resembles a blanket, legs hidden in soft fabric. You yearn to touch it. Or their hair. Or their cushion. They whisper of warmth. Of safety.

So you approach. Maybe you will stay for a bit. It’s been such a long journey after all. A break would be good.

The figure holds out a hand. And a smile floats to their face.

You take their hand, gentle and soft, and feel yourself rise like a feather. A slow blink later, you’re laying beside them. Enveloped in their arms. In their comfort.

Maybe you will stay for a bit..

Time passes. And some more. You feel as chains slither against your flesh. Cool to the touch. Like a greeting sleep that fades in from hazy edges. Through squinted eyes, you see the figure wears them too. It’s all okay.

And as you lay there, dullness takes over.

Silence.

You can’t even hear your breathing.

But you don’t want anything except silence. Except dull gray. Why get up? Why resist the pressing chains? Why continue your tiring travel? When you could lay here. Doing nothing. Feeling nothing. Feeling gray.

Gray was good. Gray was safe. Here with this demon of sloth.

Maybe you’ll stay forever…

[2 pages]

(their name is Joanna btw :3)