Nightmare
A land of woe and terror surrounds me. A black canvas, lit by the dismal glow of falling fire, blotted the sky. As I walk on the withered earth, an omnious, dark wind brushed my right hand, leaving a mark of death. A bell sounds to the west. I turn in the direction of the toll, hoping for a warmth of another being to embrace me. Hopelessness. Fear. Misery. These are what bound me as I looked at what came towards me. Daemons, ugly and wretched, marched toward me. I thought to run, yet the three chains remained strong in their grip. As they came to me, the hellish fires left in their wake raced to me, engulfing me in an inferno of scorching pain. Blinded was I, the blaze seething into my eyes. As I struggled to rid myself of this fiendish flame, I was instantly thrust to the ground. I could hear the daemons' laughs, reveling in the capture of their prey. As I tried to stand, I screamed in agony. Through the flames, I could see the hilt of a dagger impaled into my right hand. A river of blood flowed out of me as my legs and left hand suffered the same fate. The lick of the flames subsided. I glanced to the sky, only to find a cloaked figure hovering above me. Its hands, caked with blood, wielded an elegantly carved scythe over its hood, right between the twisted horns of the fiend. The clacking of mutliple skulls dangling from the top of the sickle could be heard over the laughter of the daemons. I knew what was soon to come. As I saw the scythe falling to my chest, I closed my eyes. Nothing. I open my eyes to find myself in my bed. I went to rub my eyes with my hands. My heart stopped. Adorning my right hand was the curse the dark wind placed upon me.