Tainted

The lightest touch can be far deadlier than the deepest snakebite. More powerful than the most virulent maelstrom. Blacker than night. Colder than ice.

            At first, it was nothing more than a smattering of grains on the plain surface. Nothing to speak of. You would think it was simply a matter of brushing them off. Utterly inconsequential. And you’d be forgiven for thinking so. Naiveté is but an indelible part of man. They burned and scratched. Oh, how those tiny, ignoble grains burned and scratched.

            Who knew that man, greatest of the Almighty’s creations, could succumb to so base a thing. Man, who had outlived beings inherently greater than himself. Man, who had reached the moon and was now laying claim to other worlds. Man, who was capable of destroying this world many times over, yet also create of his own will.

            The burning turned rank, furrowing into the hitherto indestructible carapace. It transfixed him. It made him sway on the spot. The edges of his vision turned blurry, and gradually became greyer and murkier. A low, sinister humming filled his head. Utter obfuscation blanketed his senses. A benumbing cold took him, clawing its way upward as he stood rooted to the spot, unaware of what held him so. An invisible harness had been put around him, a solitary blood orchid deadening everything around it.

            The itching was overpowering now. He had to. He just…had to...

            How he ever broke free of the spell, one will never know. He himself could not explain it. Now, mind you, he was not oblivious to the trance he was in. Even staring at that tiny, yet potent taint…he knew. He knew what had almost happened. He knew how perilously close he had come to the edge. How did he pull back? Where had that enormous will come from?

            He never did forget it. It would not be the last time he would find himself in the talons of taint. And yet, when it abated, in the time between, he wondered…