GrimLykReaper
New member
- Jan 1, 2010
- 1
- 0
- 1
Through the bitter breeze, trees were whispering outside of my house. Their crooked fingers, rooted from the ground…from hell, were clawing at my window.
Shaking and stumbling, left and right, violently, like an untamed animal, in my small wooden bed. The bed shook vigorously, rocking back and forth, squeaking, so much, that it seemed as if it would break upon its own foundation. Woodlice crawled out from underneath the wooden structure of the bed, scurrying away, ensuring their safety.
I stay there, still trembling, sweating like rain on a windshield, until… I stop.
There was a silence. But evil was looming, lurking in the small bedroom. However, this was only the calm before the storm…
In an instant, I took a deep intake of breath whilst tightly gripping onto the soft linen cover, and then slowly exhaled...My eyes open. My pupils start dilating. It was as if my soul was shrouded by an evil aura, slowly dominating my whole body, trying to take control over my mind. I sat up, and then looked around the room, turning my head little by little. China dolls everywhere were facing my direction. Suddenly, my eyes stay locked and targeted on the large wooden door, half opened, leading to a world outside of this chamber which I called, ‘my bedroom’.
Whilst I stay there, gazing at the exit, my eyes start to narrow. My wet upper lip, outlined with salty tears of sweat was raised high, exposing my teeth, grinding each other. Saliva dripped out from one side of my mouth as a strong but strange odour coming from the opening of the door filled the room. It had a hypnotic effect on me…dragging me in, telling me to follow it.
Enticed I was, my hands sunk into the soft mattress as I tried to get off the bed. Tuning my legs towards the floor, I jumped. I fall face down, digging my front teeth into my tongue, Smack! against the cold, hard wooden floor. I could taste the malicious taste of insect dung and dust, and the warm blood that was flowing from the slit in my tongue. The pain was excruciating as I howled in agony. A pool of blood surrounded me and covered my whole body as I struggled to remain strong. I started to feel faint…but somehow managed to get up.
Walking sluggishly towards the door, with my arm pointing forward, my vision was blurred. It seems that the more I walk, the farther away the door appears to be. Taking step by step, slowly, until my hand touches the cold iron of the door knob, accompanied by a mystic breeze. The smallest touch had seemed to open the door fully. It was like a force had opened it for me.
I looked down. There were stairs spiralling down to the floor below. I walked downwards, placing one hand over the banister; sweeping all the dust off it as I walked down. I am unmindful of the uneven step below. I only feel the sharp pain in my tongue which continues to drip blood like a crimson trickle on a tap. I cry a small and hurtful squeal and fall down, hitting every obstacle in the way. Bang…Smack! I tumbled down the stairs like a boulder running off a cliff. Falling…spiralling down. My head struck the bottom of the banister as I gradually halted at the bottom tip of the staircase.
A low rumbling thunder accompanied by lightening flashes lit up the staircase from the large open window above. A lay there, not moving, blooded and battered, lifeless as a corpse…but my heart was still beating. Death was not my fate.
Pushing my self up with my brittle arms, half up, I fall again. Continuously trying, with agony on my face, I could not manage to get up. Suddenly, a strong surge ripped through my spine. I then get up with tears of tenderness flowing down my fair, rosy cheeks and then onto my lip, where they drop off my chin, onto the floor, leaving a trail as I limp forwards into the kitchen.
I approach the entrance of the kitchen which seemed to be the epicentre of this enticing smell. I walk in, and there I see, a cake, a knife…and mother. Reaching with my fingertips for the knife which was on top of the table, I managed to grapple hold of it. I could practically feel the cold steel against my face, with a blade so sharp that it was able to slice the air into two. The black handle fit perfectly into my small hands as it if was intended for my use…I was ready to take a life. Limping nearer and nearer, moving passed the cake, taking breath by breath with the knife raised, pointing forward above my head. Mother called, with her back turned against me, “Agatha dear, leave the cake alone, it for when the guests arrive”. If, mother, thinks that I am after the cake…she is clearly mistaken…
Shaking and stumbling, left and right, violently, like an untamed animal, in my small wooden bed. The bed shook vigorously, rocking back and forth, squeaking, so much, that it seemed as if it would break upon its own foundation. Woodlice crawled out from underneath the wooden structure of the bed, scurrying away, ensuring their safety.
I stay there, still trembling, sweating like rain on a windshield, until… I stop.
There was a silence. But evil was looming, lurking in the small bedroom. However, this was only the calm before the storm…
In an instant, I took a deep intake of breath whilst tightly gripping onto the soft linen cover, and then slowly exhaled...My eyes open. My pupils start dilating. It was as if my soul was shrouded by an evil aura, slowly dominating my whole body, trying to take control over my mind. I sat up, and then looked around the room, turning my head little by little. China dolls everywhere were facing my direction. Suddenly, my eyes stay locked and targeted on the large wooden door, half opened, leading to a world outside of this chamber which I called, ‘my bedroom’.
Whilst I stay there, gazing at the exit, my eyes start to narrow. My wet upper lip, outlined with salty tears of sweat was raised high, exposing my teeth, grinding each other. Saliva dripped out from one side of my mouth as a strong but strange odour coming from the opening of the door filled the room. It had a hypnotic effect on me…dragging me in, telling me to follow it.
Enticed I was, my hands sunk into the soft mattress as I tried to get off the bed. Tuning my legs towards the floor, I jumped. I fall face down, digging my front teeth into my tongue, Smack! against the cold, hard wooden floor. I could taste the malicious taste of insect dung and dust, and the warm blood that was flowing from the slit in my tongue. The pain was excruciating as I howled in agony. A pool of blood surrounded me and covered my whole body as I struggled to remain strong. I started to feel faint…but somehow managed to get up.
Walking sluggishly towards the door, with my arm pointing forward, my vision was blurred. It seems that the more I walk, the farther away the door appears to be. Taking step by step, slowly, until my hand touches the cold iron of the door knob, accompanied by a mystic breeze. The smallest touch had seemed to open the door fully. It was like a force had opened it for me.
I looked down. There were stairs spiralling down to the floor below. I walked downwards, placing one hand over the banister; sweeping all the dust off it as I walked down. I am unmindful of the uneven step below. I only feel the sharp pain in my tongue which continues to drip blood like a crimson trickle on a tap. I cry a small and hurtful squeal and fall down, hitting every obstacle in the way. Bang…Smack! I tumbled down the stairs like a boulder running off a cliff. Falling…spiralling down. My head struck the bottom of the banister as I gradually halted at the bottom tip of the staircase.
A low rumbling thunder accompanied by lightening flashes lit up the staircase from the large open window above. A lay there, not moving, blooded and battered, lifeless as a corpse…but my heart was still beating. Death was not my fate.
Pushing my self up with my brittle arms, half up, I fall again. Continuously trying, with agony on my face, I could not manage to get up. Suddenly, a strong surge ripped through my spine. I then get up with tears of tenderness flowing down my fair, rosy cheeks and then onto my lip, where they drop off my chin, onto the floor, leaving a trail as I limp forwards into the kitchen.
I approach the entrance of the kitchen which seemed to be the epicentre of this enticing smell. I walk in, and there I see, a cake, a knife…and mother. Reaching with my fingertips for the knife which was on top of the table, I managed to grapple hold of it. I could practically feel the cold steel against my face, with a blade so sharp that it was able to slice the air into two. The black handle fit perfectly into my small hands as it if was intended for my use…I was ready to take a life. Limping nearer and nearer, moving passed the cake, taking breath by breath with the knife raised, pointing forward above my head. Mother called, with her back turned against me, “Agatha dear, leave the cake alone, it for when the guests arrive”. If, mother, thinks that I am after the cake…she is clearly mistaken…