Darkness.

Something maddening about darkness is that it has no shades of tonality.

Nothing comes close to real darkness. The kind that stretches eternally and makes a second give sluggish strides, as if time itself felt hazy; in a dream. It can develop a nasty consciousness; it whispers nothings on purpose, leaving interpretation up to you. Branches of fantasy twist wickedly on the colors of imagination to creat a cacophony of fear.

Helpless limbs grasp on to empty space, unknowing that harsh breathing has turned the air thicker. A hand holds on to nothingness. Holds on to nothing like a life-line.

There's a rush of the senses; beseeching and desperate to discern a flash of sound or a fleeting smell in the heady gloom. A dry sigh, a rustling or flapping of something. Anything.

Eyes blind with fright seek and seek like mad. Warm tears fall soundless and demons come from nightmares to leech on the sweetly strangled cries of despair.