S.I.C.K. four

a draft

 So, this is our deal is it?

Blood on my hands shields you from my vision? Cease my existence when the works done. No soul to burn, no body to bury; from that book my name is erased.

 

A soft bell and the elevator opens.

          Deal.

I touch them each with my eyes, my hands, and litter the room with bodies.

Tiles shake loose their walls. Clocks fall, their inept hands gesturing failingly.

How pathetic this stillness.

I barely sweat before dripping in shadows down the stairs.

 

 

Reviews

[Clarisse Nanoit]

Wow. Criz-azy... Do I sense ACTUAL murder? So it's not just a story. I've been wondering about that. Can't wait for part five. This is all so imaginative and captivating. GREAT STUFF!
KH