A fictional horror about a girl's battle with her possible psychopathy and nightmares.
|There was a piece of white tissue taped to the back entrance. Under the strange and oddly placed tissue there was a letter of some sort.
It was almost like a sad and frightening memorandum..for me. Or maybe it was a puzzle knowing Grey. the envelope said in bold aggressive sort of letters "SIA"
I slowly ripped back the nasty envelope glue that everybody hates to lick. For some reason I hate Grey's letters or clues. Whatever he likes to call them.. I hate every single one. It's as if they imply a disaster.
Do not. I have. Keep far and stay gone.
This place will ruin you if something or someone already hasn't.
Run with quickness, but flee with grace because you don't want her to hear you.
If you do decide to go in like I know you will,
come find me and we will fix it.
If you choose not to,
I applaud your wit and will see you tomorrow.
X - Grey
p.s. It doesn't have to be a disaster.
just walk away.
I hate him.
I'm going to go in. How bad can this one be compared to the last mishap?
I then took my nightly capsule. Did I mention that I hate this world?
Just in time, the drugs have kicked in. Whatever they are they are definitely working. I can now begin.
A greeting of pale light to small sensitive eyes .
Like a child emerging from a darkness,
from the inside of a crappy matinee.
Double door late afternoon..
When everything seemed empty,
and The world was lonely kind of quiet.
I kept looking for a soul to save but there weren't any bodies to tend to in the red velvet seats.
Just a mirror on the left side of the cinema staring at me with a snide sort of energy. A thud of realization hit my breath as I came to see that the picture in this looking glass revealed a twisted sort of face. I tried to speak but fell silent instead. The air threw down heaviness in exchange for waking the spark inside of my beating blood shot eyes.
I clasped my hands around the base of the this reflective mockery and shut my eyes with my brows so tight, that you could trace the frustration.
My teeth were like knives against the now inflamed, pink rose colored tissue on the inside of my quivering bottom lip.
I could taste the metallic that pooled like a thin rouge colored river outlining my bottom set of teeth. The meaty pieces of bright, tattered flesh held on by a thread as I continued on to bite. I couldn't feel anything. My nerves were shot as I pretended I wasn't on the verge of becoming anything less of an unwilling demon possessed with psychopathy.