An old decrepit and feeble lady beckoning me to follow her down this forest path framed by elm trees with the diffused light of a lantern in her hands. Her eyes, beady yet piercing. She is draped in black, as if the color could swallow her whole at any minute. Her skin, coagulates like rice pudding, and is just as fair in color. Her eyes are coffee beans and her nails are sea shells. I just saw her face dissolve-it's melting. She gesticulates to her right with her precious antiquated lantern and I see phases of my life framed by elm tree prosceniums. I witness the transience of my life in a fleeting moment of hysteria. 1930's circus music commences and annihilates all hope...penetrating the air...cutting it with an axe.
maybe, just maybe, this is my depiction of hell.
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