A short excerpt where I was trying to inflict some indescribable experience on the poor protagonist. This is part of a bigger work so the emphasis here is mainly on what is happening.
I entered the strangely empty park. It should be more crowded since it was Saturday. Then again, there was no wind, and everything seemed perfectly still. Is this the reason why people were avoiding the park?
I looked up at the sky. It was darkened despite being a clear and cloudless sky. Am I inside the dark dome I saw yesterday? That said, yesterday’s dome was much bigger, encompassing some several kilometres or so. This one seemed to only encompass the park.
Slowly my sight dimmed though I could still see. But now my sense of smell was assaulted by a terrible stench. The air was thick with the smell of blood. My mouth tasted iron just by breathing. There was no blocking out the smell either.
I wasn’t nauseous yet but I definitely felt dizzy. The more I had my eyes open the dizzier I became. Slowly the surrounding landscape twisted itself in to caricatures of their former selves. They mutated further finally turning in to something belonging in a modern art masterpiece. If this was something man was never meant to behold then I would gladly gouge out my eyes now.
More and more the landscape devolved in to unrecognisable shapes. There was a pattern but they were meaningless, lacking context.
Finally, my ears picked up sound. When humans are in a relatively silent room by themselves, they often pick up a kind of perpetual ring in their ears. It is a solid and unwavering tone. Right now though, this din was that ring only much greater in magnitude and it threatened to split my head apart.
Several seconds of painful aural stimulation later and soon I could pick up the nuances and details of the ring. In fact, it wasn’t a ring. It was a collective scream of torment and pain. Even more time passed and soon I could clearly distinguish voices. They still screamed but each one had their own story to tell. If I sat down and calmly wrote it all down, it would take my whole life just to cover but a drop in the ocean.
The sole sense that remained inviolate was my sense of touch. It was not cold enough to give me chilblains just yet. The only warmth I felt was flowing down my cheek. Were they tears or was it blood? I could not taste anything else but abhorrent iron so I could not tell.
My knees bent and I fell on to them. The pain registered slowly but surely. It was the only real sensation I could hold on to and stave off madness. It would subside but I had lost consciousness by the time they did. In my fading vision, I could see three blurred yet distant figures.
Comments et al are welcome and encouraged. If it helps to establish some context, he's falling in to the space between dimensions (not that I would know how that feels). I'm not exactly channelling Lovecraft but it'd be nice if I could get anywhere near it. That said, if you could reply to the topic title that'd be nice too.
I believe the 4th paragraph is the weakest of the bunch.
