Somewhere deep within his own subconscious he knew he was the setting sun. The sparking wind. He was the grass that turned to flames destroying all that was ideal..to perfect, to ever be real.  

The world turned to dark, shadows of doors lining up. Stark, one by one they stood like an endless line of soldiers, just waiting for him to open and enter. A maze to the subconscious that was his own mind. Why did this scare him. Why did he feel the unnerving lurch of fear catch within his chest at what he could possibly find. 

The struggle to run, escape while he could. Hide from the hidden demons he could not see,  fueled him forward. He would be strong, Here, he couldn't be beaten.
Reaching out he opened a door.

The room was barren or so it first seamed. Neglected and run down. The walls, coated in grime, paint peeling under the crumbling plaster . He could feel the rubble crunching under his feet yet hear no sound. In the corner, a panel like the side of a wooden box. Stained with the grime from the walls,  It lay upon its side as if sheltering something from sight.  He told himself no. But his feet were moving him forward. hand stretching out to pull the panel from the side of the wall.

 A shadow cowered hiding, cringing away from his touch. No more then formation of fog, faceless, it called forth to his heart. The urge. The need to save it.  Rescue it from some fate he felt was stalking them both. 

The thought consumed him. Turning he searched erratically  noticing a darkened hallway filled with corroded plasterboard and debris where he was sure had only once been wall. Reaching down he grasped for the shadow, watching its foggy form dissipate upon his touch.
Confusion. His heart beat fast. It had found him!
 Any minuet it would be behind him. Rising he turned seeing the the shadow, the fogging masked existence of the one who had only moments before been crouching, hiding behind the panel.  

It stood waiting in the shadows of the darkened hallway. Like a beacon of hope. He found himself running forward . Scrambling over the debris that seamed to block his path.  Struggling he tried to speed up his pace, feeling the sluggish pull as his feet sank into the floor slowing his movements . He couldn't turn.
He wouldn't face the nightmare that moved like lightning as it it came up behind him. The feel of its presence raised the hair's upon the back of his neck. He closed eyes refusing its touch.

 

The sun gleamed red behind his closed eyes. Blinking he opened his eyes. He stood alone. The towering walls of empty buildings surrounded him. The widows; pane-less void of any glass. 
Yet the grass was a vivid green; soft and plush beneath his feet. Slowly he made his way forward. He could feel them both .. They were here somewhere.  He would find them. Face them in the emptiness. The sun shone. The world was bright. it could have been idealistic,  almost peaceful.  Yet the emptiness- it taunted. Lingering upon his echoing footsteps,  Footsteps he could not hear.

Rising up the red brick walls surrounded him.  Apartments empty void of any life or self expression. The trees languid as their eaves rested upon mission brown, wooden balconies.  He saw it. Standing there waiting . Watching him. The faceless shadow mocking. He would catch it. Confront it! He would take control!  He felt the exertion as he sprinted forward taking the wooden steps in twos.  The stairwell to the Balcony; to the Shadow that waited. Rounding the corner he felt the red bricks scrape against his shoulder. Registered the pain yet could not feel it. So close now! Yet the balcony stood empty. A tattered cream curtain slowly moving in the wind at an open sliding door. It waited for him. Waited inside. 

Determined he stepped forward.  Reaching for the swaying curtain,  strangely aware of how it felt within his grasp;  as he crossed the threshold of light, into the darkness.

Slowly his eyes drew focus. He was laying. He could feel the cold hardness beneath his back. It taunted him, making him wonder when he had lost control. He saw the shadows looming over him, as if he was laid out upon a table. A platter of their choosing. Their eyes gleaming in the darkness. Their touch upon his naked skin. Like icicles it froze him. Repulsed him. Stimulated him. Stiffening his shaft with an erection to feed off of his fright. 

He saw the glints cold like metal. Shuddered beneath their touch. The bittersweet pain as their touch drew fire to his skin, Delving deep and carefully slicing it open. The stench of his blood holding no meaning in his mind save for his own arousal. The succulent throb that etched and pulsed through his groin; sending spasms of delight up along his engorged shaft to merge with the bitter cold air as it caressed against his sensitive head.  

He could feel the fingers, easing apart the layers of his skin. Their touch dulling the pain like an anesthesia. The feeling as they slowly slid within the thick warmness of his blood. Using it like a lubricant. The way his organs moved, sliding back as their fingers delved deeper claiming his soul from the inside, out . Exquisite. Exotic ecstasy.  Enthralled, he wondered aimlessly how long he would endure. The moment it would all end. Shamelessly wishing it wouldn't.

The eyes.. he knew them. Finally he accepted them, for what and who they were. Their gaze unfaltering as they stared down upon him, mocking him. He no longer cared.

Unperturbed by their taunts, he smiled and slowly closed his eyes.

The warm sticky sweet metallic smell of blood  as it cooled congealing upon his fingers. Tantalizing. Raising a hand to his nostril's he breathed deep the scent. Letting his tongue slid between his lips to lick up along the congealing blood that covered his thumb. Already it was dying. The life. It's force held within his other hand. His erection throbbing within his grasp. 

He was no longer repelled. There was no inevitable fight. The only demon was himself. The Monster parents told their children of.

Lowering his head to the corpse of shadow and fog  beneath him: he kissed his lifeless lips, Accepting his own insanity, as he watched it dissipated like smoke beneath his breath. 

-----------------------------

Frowning Loki slowly opened his eyes. The long green drapes that surround his bed, hung silent. lit only by the moonlight as it streamed in through the open balcony doors. Breathing deep, he let his gaze travel up along the flowing folds of thick tapestry to the ceiling above: watching the shadows....

" Was it madness....Was it?"