Swine

That strange night, I awoke hastily with a tremble, as if some subliminal inquiry had been raptured, from the vortex of insufferable oblivion. Many ancient predicaments, shrouded my sensitive mind, and like a hostile malady, distorted its function. A mesmerism of decay as one might call it. But why had I become a slave to prolific disquiet submerged in the quiet of anticipation and gloom. My chest felt heavier, my ruminations more lucid, and yet peering into the egregious black of darkness, I felt inured to the exaggerated mileage of surmise and that otherwise venomous mystery. My heart throbbed, as if concealing an imp in its dimunitive chamber, as if some secret sought the daylight. My augmenting misery became engorged, with a darkly stream of sentience, and still my dilated eyes saw nothing. I chuckled when at length, I heard a tortured squeal, and installing the amber flower into the lamp's glass shield, I let it dance over the precinct as I kneeled upon my bed. At length, I discovered that there was a piglet incumbent upon the floors and drenched in fresh blood.