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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1767370
A glimpse of hell, someone's hell. Reviews are appreciated, no GP's because i'm new. thx.
My alarm clock goes off. I turn over and slam the snooze button hoping to break the damn thing this time. The clock cracks and stops ticking, but I know it’s lying to me again. I stare at the ceiling for a minute, contemplating whether I should even try this time, but I shake the notion away, deciding it wouldn’t make a difference. I get out of bed and get dressed for the day, just a long sleeve shirt, a pair of jeans, and my everyday running shoes.

I decide to skip breakfast today, just so I can get through the day faster. My house is as I always remember it as it never seems to change anyway. I turn the cold glass knob of my front door and step out into the stale morning air, the scent of emptiness assaulting my taste buds. I walk toward the sidewalk, noticing my neighbor hanging from the tree in his yard, feet flailing, his life creeping away. I don’t try to help him anymore. I walk on the side of the street towards town like I do everyday, unwillingly taking in the sites on my way.

I head towards the park just outside the city, hoping there would not be anyone there. I walk a ways into the park and sit at a bench near the creek. I see a young couple sitting near each other under a tree on the other side of the creek. The girl is holding something, something the boy gave her. She plays with the object, stokes it, and kisses it. The boy has a look of pure bliss upon his face, he loves this girl. The girl takes the object and squeezes it with her delicate, treacherous hands. The boy looks pained, as if someone turned a screw within him. Then the girl, with a wicked smile, takes the object and throws it into the creek where it shatters and erupts in a crimson spray. She stands up, and leaves the boy, she heads towards the city. I watch her leave as she follows the creek, which has begun to stain a dull red. I turn to look upon the boy seeing his form slumped up against the tree, a gaping hole in his chest, his eyes black and empty. She broke his heart again. I stand up and start towards the city, following the same path as the coldhearted girl.

As I near the city, the sun is well into the west sky bathing the east in grey warmth. I walk along a main road that leads to the black heart of the city. The buildings stained with blood and rust tower around me. People here are heartless, soulless, and lacking of conscience. I see the gluttonous push the week out of the way as they feed on their wicked desires. The greedy hoard their wealth in strangely placed piles around the city, in the streets and ally ways. They kill anyone who comes near the piles and take what they can from the corpses to add to their piles. I don’t know why I come here anymore.

I move along the streets, getting closer to the center of the city. I pass an ally and hear the desperate cries of a rape victim and the hideous laughter of the rapist. I would help her, but it won’t make a difference because it will happen again and again, everyday. I’ve learned to ignore everything around me, there’s no point in letting it bother me anymore. I keep moving despite the cries of the tortured and the suffering. The worst of them all are the angry, as they kill each other for unknown reasons, screaming blasphemous words as they murder one another.

I see the coldhearted girl again, walking towards the heart of the city. I follow her. She turns a corner and walks out to a clearing, I follow closely behind. When I turn the corner, I see the heart of the city, a huge, grotesque and bulbous mass of muck. It beats hatred and evil from its gnarled artery, the black liquid burning the ground as it rains down. The girl walks towards the heart, a look of lust in her eyes. She embraces the hideous thing and melds into it, adding treachery to the sins of the city. I gaze upon the heart with hatred and sadness. The black heart speaks my name, and I see nothing but darkness.

I can still breathe in this blackness; I can still think. I stopped being able to cry a week ago and eventually I stopped trying. I used to think my neighbor had the right idea, trying to hang himself, but when he never stopped struggling, I brushed the thought away. That kind of thinking is what got me here in the first place. I try to sleep while I’m in the darkness, thinking I could wake up from this nightmare if I tried. I feel sleep beginning to overtake me. My alarm clock goes off…

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