Endless

Introduced by Clarence, Keeper of Dark Tales

Ah, I see you’re curious, aren’t you? I can tell. The way your eyes linger on the shadows, how you lean in closer, hanging on the unspoken words between breaths. Yes, I know your kind. You crave the darkness, the thrill of fear just out of reach. Well, let me tell you, what you’re about to read is not some harmless tale crafted for cheap scares. No, this story is something far more unsettling. This is a glimpse into the endless loop of suffering, where death is not an escape, but a relentless pursuer.

“Endless”—how fitting a title, wouldn’t you agree? The poor soul in question believed he was free, believed his suffering had come to its final end. But death has a funny way of teasing those who think they can outrun it. The more he struggled, the tighter the grip became, until there was nowhere left to run, no sanctuary to hide in. Just… death. Over and over.

I’ve seen it happen before, countless times. You can try to defy fate, claw your way out of the grave as many times as you like, but some endings are inevitable. Especially when you’re being watched—especially when something ancient and hungry is waiting just beyond the edge of your vision.

But don’t take my word for it. See for yourself. After all, there’s a certain satisfaction in bearing witness to someone else’s torment. Just be careful… stories like these tend to linger. You never know when you’ll find yourself in a place much like that graveyard. You might have no memory of how you got there. You may find no way to escape.

Now, lean in. I’ll tell you his tale, though I can’t promise it will end well for him—or for you.

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When he awoke, he was choking.

Not on air, but on dirt. Wet, heavy soil clogged his throat and nostrils. His hands, trembling, shot up, tearing through the dense earth. His fingers felt cold air, clawing desperately until his head finally broke the surface. He gasped, pulling in freezing breaths as he crawled out of the grave, coughing violently, his mouth full of dirt. His body ached as if he’d been crushed under tons of weight, limbs shaking with exhaustion.

The night around him was eerily still. A thick fog coiled low to the ground, smothering the gravestones that stretched out endlessly into the dark. He was in a graveyard, an ancient one by the looks of it, the headstones crumbling, half-forgotten, their names worn away by time. It was suffocatingly quiet, no sounds but his ragged breathing.

Staggering to his feet, his mind whirled. How had he ended up in a grave? Why had he been buried alive? His memories were a fog of confusion and blankness, leaving only raw, throbbing panic in their absence. The weight of the earth had crushed his thoughts as thoroughly as his body, and now only survival instincts drove him.

He looked around, his heart pounding, hoping for some sign of life. But all he saw were more gravestones, bathed in an oppressive, unnatural darkness. The air smelled stale, heavy with decay, as if the earth around him had been rotting for centuries. His breath hitched in his throat. He had to get out of here.

As he stumbled forward, legs weak and unsteady, something shifted in the shadows. A low, guttural growl came from between the tombstones.

He froze, every muscle tensing. His eyes strained to see through the dense fog. Something was there, something large. It slithered in the dark like a predator stalking its prey. His pulse raced, his feet ready to flee, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. It was watching him.

Another growl, deeper this time, echoed through the graveyard. Whatever it was, it was close. Closer than he wanted it to be.

And then it lunged.

Instinct took over. He turned and ran, heart pounding in his chest. The fog blurred his vision, branches and tombstones whipping past him as he sprinted through the endless rows of graves. The creature’s snarl chased him, its claws scraping against the earth, growing louder with each passing second.

He burst into the forest at the graveyard’s edge, branches slashing at his face and arms, the darkness swallowing him whole. The twisted trees, black and gnarled, seemed to close in around him. His legs burned with the effort, his lungs on fire, but he couldn’t stop. The creature’s growls were growing louder, closer. He could feel it—smell the rancid stench of its breath.

His foot caught on something—a root or rock—and he crashed hard into the ground. Pain shot through his body, but before he could scramble back to his feet, the creature was upon him. Its claws sank deep into his back, and he screamed as white-hot agony ripped through him. He could feel its teeth sinking into his neck, shredding flesh, tearing through muscle. Blood spilled onto the cold earth, and his vision blurred as the world went black.

The taste of dirt filled his mouth once more.

His body jerked violently as he awoke, arms thrashing wildly as he clawed his way through the suffocating soil. His lungs burned, choking on the earth, until his hands found air. He broke through the surface, gasping, retching as he pulled himself out of the grave. The same grave.

His chest heaved, breath ragged as he wiped the dirt from his face. He stood shakily, his legs trembling beneath him. The cold night surrounded him once again. The same graveyard. The same oppressive silence.

But this time, something was different.

His mind reeled, trying to comprehend the impossible. He had died. He had felt the creature’s claws tear through him, had felt his blood pouring out onto the ground. He had felt his life slipping away. And yet, here he was. Alive. Again.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

He stumbled backward, horror seizing his throat. His hands shook as he stared down at them, expecting to see gaping wounds, shredded flesh, but there was nothing. No blood. No pain. Just the distant, fading memory of agony.

A low snarl broke the silence.

His heart nearly stopped. He turned, dread coiling tight in his chest. The dark shape of the creature slinked between the tombstones, its eyes glowing faintly, watching him with cold, predatory focus. It was waiting for him to run again. It knew he had no choice.

He took a slow step back, his breath shallow, his gaze locked on the beast. His pulse pounded in his ears, terror gripping him. The creature crouched low, ready to strike.

Without thinking, he bolted.

His legs moved faster than his thoughts, carrying him through the maze of graves, his mind a blur of panic. The creature’s growls followed, growing louder, hungrier. He didn’t dare look back. He couldn’t bear to see how close it was.

The forest loomed ahead, its dark branches twisted and claw-like. He pushed himself harder, every muscle in his body screaming, as he broke through the treeline. The creature was close now, so close he could feel its breath on his neck, the ground trembling beneath its weight.

And then, like before, he stumbled.

He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Pain exploded through his body, but he barely had time to react before the creature was on top of him. Its claws sank into his flesh, tearing through muscle, bone, and sinew. He screamed, his voice echoing through the silent trees, but it was no use. The creature’s jaws clamped down on his throat, crushing his windpipe.

Darkness swallowed him.

The next time he woke, he didn’t scream.

There was no need. He already knew what was happening. The taste of dirt filled his mouth as he clawed his way out of the grave once more. His body moved on autopilot, his mind numb with the horror of it all.

The same graveyard. The same night. The same quiet dread.

How many times had this happened? How many times had he died, only to wake up buried alive, trapped in this endless loop of death and rebirth? His thoughts were a jumbled mess, panic clawing at the edges of his sanity. He couldn’t bear it anymore. He couldn’t keep waking up in this nightmare, doomed to die over and over again.

He stood shakily, his legs weak, body trembling. The graveyard stretched out before him, unchanged. The silence clung to him, thick and suffocating. His pulse quickened as his eyes scanned the horizon. Somewhere out there, the creature waited. He could feel it watching him.

The growl came once more, low and menacing, vibrating through the earth beneath his feet.

But this time, he didn’t run.

His legs felt like lead, his body exhausted from the endless cycle of death. The creature slunk from the shadows, its massive form towering over the tombstones. Its eyes gleamed with hunger, the mist curling around its body like smoke.

It snarled, inching closer.

He took a step toward it, his breath steady, his heart pounding. He was done running. If this was his fate, then he would face it head-on. The creature seemed to sense his change in demeanor, hesitating briefly, but it wasn’t enough. Its lips peeled back, revealing rows of jagged teeth, blood still fresh on its maw.

With a roar, it lunged.

He didn’t flinch. He felt the impact, felt the claws rip into his chest. The pain was sharp, agonizing, but it no longer scared him. He felt the creature’s jaws close around his throat, felt his blood spilling onto the ground. And as the darkness swallowed him once again, a strange sense of peace washed over him.

There was no escape from this nightmare. He understood that now.

He would wake again.

And again.

And again.

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