Head Of The Eternal Witch

I had a vision of a giant witch head floating in the sky, its tangled black tentacle like hairs hanging for miles below, the vast jungle of black swinging filthy hair a world onto itself. From a distance it might resemble a gigantic squid with a human head, long black tentacles hanging lifeless and dragging across the landscape below. The rotting witch head moves forward with glowing white eyes shining frightening shadows down on the demented hanging world below. Its face is locked in a permanent screaming howl, the tongue mummified and hanging out of the mouth, the rotten sharp and broken teeth the size of houses, like ornaments decorating a grotesque sort of cathedral.

Bizarre species of albino eyeless things cling like monkeys, swinging and screeching between the rope like hairs. Disgusting insect shaped things with long branch shaped arms claw and climb, blink and groan, sometimes squeal, as they travel down to the mysterious moving world below and back up to the witch skull to take refuge. A castle of bone and decaying flesh, pieces of the brain still cling inside and ooze a dark energy, a precious nectar to horrible creatures roaming within the witch's head.

Across the top of the rotting skull, vast stalks of black hair, bound together and grossly creeping up and bending out, like a jungle of black vine like trees. It makes a comfortable home for horrible things, nestled in the clots of decay. Large patches of the skull reveal barren wastelands, fields of white and cracked surfaces, secret things claw their way out of the cavernous skull domain. Strange scratching sounds, whispering moans, wild howls and low groans, reverberate through the bone surface. Intricate scratch marks dig across the bone surfaces, the trail of sharpened creatures and heavy beasts, long tails burrowing, twitching appendages scraping, a fantastic array of abominations, each leaving their own unique markings across the fragile surface.

Storms grow within the impossibly long strands of hair, lightning bursting through the friction of clumps of hairs running against each other. As it passes through abandoned cities, buildings, old cars, get caught in it, knotted masses of hair find their way pulled back up by horrible things that live in the witch's head, coming down to explore and to feed. Random debris from the ground below find their way to the top, an old car, part of a house with furniture strewn about, even telephone poles, caught in the hairs below and eventually knotted and wound back to the top, various abandoned instruments and artifacts of the world below, strewn like so much trash across the land of the witch's rotting head. But much of it swings below, hanging between miles of black hair. In time a surreal hanging world of buildings, dead trees and random debris held together by the knots upon knots of black dead hairs create a vast labyrinth that forever travels the path of the giant head of the dead witch as it continues to float through the sky forever, its glowing dead eyes lighting a path for nightmares to grow.