[Surreal Horror] Star Sommelier

It begins with another restless night. Had you listened to their warnings, the room wouldn’t have collapsed in itself. You confronted it but buried your plights further. Surely, another bottle might have bereaved you of time, but your inner demons will soon bloom from gestation. They uttered to consider abstaining. If your past does not abide to your future’s good intentions, then forget and decease because a continuous strand of water transforms into a lifetime of grief. The night stretches into the waning dawn. Its reprieve painfully ignites your muscles with its stingful rays. Your flesh feeling weary and your bones groan in endless anxiety; eyes bloodshot and pounding with adrenaline. You must crawl out of the hole and grasp another beacon, another pyre. Out from the darkness and into the void.
Silence: despite previous attempts to eschew fictitious entities, darker thoughts linger. You feel your consciousness drive you deeper over the fringe only after you’ve obeyed their demands. It is within their orders, that your disease latches onto. Every upstart and fit of unguided order in your life fuels their mounting pressure over your very reason of living. Do you trust the people that don’t trust in you? Perhaps, that question has already passed your mind. They cry to you, a pitiful being, lost in their throes. They seek every possibility imaginable; for you, it is their absolute concern. Yet, you refrain. You are alone, caught, and trapped under their authority. You plead with yourself:

I am worthless
I writhe in chains
I know I’m a good listener
I wish to sit
On the tallest mountain
Over the widest expanse
Of nothing, but I still see:
The moon that bleeds
Within hand’s reach
Another cycle I do not want to believe

You have woken up.

I have woken up. I can open the door. This door that I could not see before. With protruding fingers curled from the wall, pointing to its origin. My eyes, wider than any fire from below. I am already numb from a life worth only in pain. And agonizingly slowly, I am condemned to open this door. I am galvanized by my inner convictions. It is open. They can not control me here. Two figures partitioned there by a lone mirror in the middle, I walk. I was cold and alone. They turned to face me, in all my rancor. A deep-seated lust for judgement, acceptance, and then validation was all I needed. To them, mortality was nothing. It was discarded. To me, I knew their true motive.
He was the embodiment of illusion. His figure seeped in an anonymous haze. Draped in an attire fit for the shade. His shadow dragged the light into his coat. I remembered him, yet I didn’t. He told me to accept it, how could I refuse? His face remained obfuscated by the intersection between his bowler hat and trench coat.
She sits parallel from the ground. Her complexion screamed pale. She parted her silver hair to reveal eyeless sockets. With one hand, she reached within the folds of her beautiful face and procured a key. She whispered to me in a language only I recognized. Her lips remained shut, but her eyes told me everything.
With key in tow, I faced the cloudy mirror. It did not reflect how morose I truly felt. Though, I was riddled with endless organs. They pulsated and writhed in my bisected form. I am in control now. The mirror contorted, hapless against the visage of my key. There, the gates opened, divulging my skin into a makeshift keyhole. I unlocked the glass hinges, only for it to shatter. The entire room dissipated and reformed itself. Behind me, several chairs distorted in height greeted my sudden entrance. I stood forth, observing the lone statue in front of me. Its posture was warped with its neck craned against its shoulder. The plastered flesh of the statue melded the neck and shoulder in a grotesque union. In solitude, it sheds its humanity. The bust lacked appendages but received a single horn bulging from its forehead. I realized then that the floor melted into veiny constructions of nerves. Bloody ichor spilled forth breathing life into its architecture. It was calling out to me.
A palace in the distance, it casts a spell on the remaining remnants of my soul. I was lifeless, controlled again by my awakening. Under the pillars laid a sea of corpses, under the arches hung the nooses of fear. I was crumbling, dilapidated, but an insurmountable force pushed me forward. The puppeteer bounded me by the strings that they so created. I became lost within the confines of my own madness. Yet, my kingdom did not falter. It was determined to withstand me and my weaknesses. It was taunting me. It was disorienting. I wanted to sleep, the longest leap of faith I’ve ever done in my entire life. They haunted me. Unknown fractures of my unstable mind have risen once more to suppress my will - my right to live - but I still pressed on. Corridors molded into labyrinthian monuments. They wanted me gone. I was already past it. My body could not sustain failure. It was over. I stared beyond myself. Still walking, still breathing, but barely thinking; I continued existing merely to fabricate the truth. They were right. In the end, what I only found was my hope for another, better life.