vineri, 15 octombrie 2010

The puddle

[I wrote this article about 1 year ago, but never got to actually publish it. The recently published post of a friend of mine inspired me to edit it and finally post it.]

After a few minutes, he woke up with a great pain in his chest. With a terrible headache, he tried to figure out where the hell he was, but couldn't remember even the slightest thing. His numb and blank mind wouldn't help him at all.
He was lying on the floor of some odd room. It's oddness came from it's simplicity: completely empty. Just a dim lightbulb was hanging from the ceiling while the floor was covered by a thick carpet of dust. With each breath, the boy brought up a small dust cloud that was blurrying even more his eyes. As he began to check out the weird chamber he had found himself in, he noticed the rusty door on one of the walls that were imprisoning him.
A sudden cry of dispair was heard from behind the door. It was the voice of a young woman. He knew that voice, but he was unable to remember to whom it belonged. A strange feeling made out of some sort of deep fear and pitty for the woman that seemed to be beyond the door sent shivers down his already paralised spine. He knew he had to open it and try to remove the shroud that kept his mind so numb. He got up and headed towards the door. Several cries had been heard till the moment he reached the cold door knob.
"No! Please, don't hurt me! Why are you doing this?"
The door cracked open, revealing the disfigured face of a woman. Her figure was malformed by pain and terror, covered by bruises and her own blood.
He slammed the door open, trying to grab her, but cold steel bars kept her out of reach. Suddenly, his memory just clicked. It all came back to him. He recognised the woman, even though she was twitching, curling and screaming as if she were burnt alive. A dark shadow flew right past him and into her room.
"No! Stay away from her! Leave her alone!" he cried.
In a moment's notice, the specter enveloped her with it's black wings. She dissapeared. There was nothing left in her room, except for a dark-red puddle.
He felt a warm liquid pouring down his right hand. It smelt blood. He had no cuts. Nor bruises. It was hers.
Choked by guilt, the boy fainted, falling once more...

4 comentarii:

  1. Cred ca avem nevoie de o baie sau macar un dush psihologic ... sau poate sa ne canalizam energiile negative in scopuri pozitive :-?

  2. Clisma intelectuala.

    Energii negative folosite constructiv. Seems pretty positive :).

  3. Ce ganduri i-au mai staruit prin minte lu Alin in ultimul timp ?

  4. vrei sa mai treaca un an pana cand mai scrii ceva?:-S