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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2073123-Wreckage
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Horror/Scary · #2073123
this is a portion of a short story I wrote. I am looking forward to hearing your input.
Peter Bliss woke with a start to the blaring alarm. With a groan he rolled over and pawed blindly at the night stand until the incessant screeching stopped. With a sigh he laid back on the bed hoping that he would have a few more minutes of peace. Just as the warm nothingness of sleep was about to reclaim him the bathroom door popped open and he was blinded with bright light.

“oh good your awake. I was worried that you were going to sleep in.” Said the fuzzy blob that sounded like his wife. He grunted his best greeting and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He looked up and the fuzzy blob sharpened into the smiling face of his wife Alicia.
“did you forget what today was.” She said in a way that sounded both worried and curious at the same time. He shook the sleep out of his head hoping that she would take it as an affirmation of the days activities. His silent prayer must have worked she smiled and when back to work on her hair in the bathroom.

Out of nowhere the alarm started blaring again. Peter groaned and and shut off the alarm. Why did she have to buy such an annoying alarm clock?! It almost gave him a heart attack every time he woke up plus he thought sullenly it reminded him of a hospital.
“Are you getting up?! You know we have to leave by nine.” Alicia stated again. This time she had the tone of frustration wives and mothers know too well. Peter got up and stumbled to the door of the bathroom. God, why was it so hard to wake up. When he reach the bathroom door he looked up and saw something dark running down the back of his wife's neck. Peter sighed, typical she coloring her hair and worried about me getting ready on time.
“honey you look fine, You don't need to do that.” he reached up and touched the back of her neck. He felt something warm and sticky under his hand. He looked at it dumbstruck his mind not able to comprehend the coating of red on his hand. The smell of copper grew in the air. He reached to turn her around. Before he could touch her. She spun and to face him and warm droplets patted him in the face. She smiled and blood poured out of her mouth covering her front like a child's bib.
“I love you.” her words gurgled and bubbled through the mass of blood. In the distance Peter could hear the screech of tires and crumple. However it was soon overwhelmed by his own screaming.

Peter woke with a start. His sheets were soaked with sweat and bundled in the middle of the bed. It looked as though he had been in a titanic struggle most of the night. Peter waited for a second as his galloping heart slowed to a mere jog. Looking at the cluttered night stand the neon red numbers declared that the time was 415am. He sighed. At least he made it an hour longer than he had last night before having a nightmare. Some night it was like this one with the bathroom and all of the blood. On other better night it was just a feeling of a car going out of control. Accompanied by the flash of headlights and the scream of crumpling metal. Still it had the same result. Him sitting here in the dark alone, ready to cry like baby all because some drunk took his love and life from him.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2073123-Wreckage