Images of second-hand memories hanging at the back of my mind. With their vivid colors and long sharp brush strokes, tilted and unforgettable as if they were real. That’s how I imagine what it looks like inside my brain. These images hung on its walls, its flooring, swap like with veins and fungi all around. Thick trees with branches stretched in every direction, looking like monsters only a little child’s imagination could create. Its waters, almost slime like, sitting between my brain’s grooves, with a greenish hue and an unattractive stench that can actually be seen like a fog, moving as if it had a mind of its own. Silent, except in the not so rare occasions when the swap creatures come out from hiding to feast on my soul. Not human, not animal and not even alien, but something in between. The Czarians, that’s what they’re called. They speak to me from time to time, and they also appear in my dreams –or should I say nightmares. I find it hard to describe them, mainly because I do not think that there are words that can describe such unearthly creatures. Transparent, but with a greenish color, like the waters of the swamp. They have no eyes, mouths or ears; their heads, almost cylindrical in shape and filled with tentacles that are constantly moving in every which way while they’re standing upright. They use these tentacles while moving around, leaning their bodies forward, horizontal to the ground. Armless, but with thorn like things on their arched backs that are always erect when they’re walking. They breath the fog, they are part of it and it’s a part of them. The Czarians do not speak human, however, they speak to humans. No one can understand them except their host –which is that case, me. I can understand their language, their hissing sounds that taunt me when ever I dare close my eyes.
“Hithaspra mesthlas brathzath frospralth.” They always whisper, which can roughly be translated to: Your soul is ours, mortal; we are your gods.
They speak as one, they move as one, but they are many, roaming the inside of my brain, pushing thoughts, ideas, memories, for they control me. I am their slave, I do as they please, and sooner or later, you’ll all be their slaves. There is no running from the Czarians, they will control you once they get in. They feed on your evil, and then reproduce it with much higher intensities. They play with your emotions, they use your psyche against you. I tried to stop them once by not sleeping, it worked, but as the days went by, and my eyes felt heavier I began to see them in real life. Moving like serpents from hell, leaving a trail of green slime behind them, along with a cloud of stench.
Hithaspra mesthlas brathzath frospralth. They whispered.
I cried and screamed, they wouldn’t go away, and no one believed me. I don’t blame them for not believing, by then I looked like a junkie with dark halos under my bloodshot eyes. That night when I blacked out, I felt them grabbing my soul, twisting it, punishing me for disobeying their orders. The horror of these creatures is indescribable, my hands are shaking, my heart throbbing. But soon it’ll be over. I’ll cut them off, switch off the power source, I’ll take my life and take theirs with me. But whose to know if they were alive in the first place? I have to try. I can see them now, waiting for my move. They’ll never get me, it’s over, I won’t stand for this anymore. I’m staring into their eyeless heads, the thorns on their backs are shaking. The gun is in my mouth. They’re getting closer. My finger is on the trigger. They’re moving faster. Faster. Faster.
Hithaspra mesthlas brathzath frospralth.