they're comingA Story by Suicidal CupidHe wanted to run. He wanted to flee with great haste- away from the cold, chilling air. Away from the grisly tombstones and foul, putrid stench of decaying lost hopes. But something was stopping him. His feet became quicksand. His eyes filled with spectacles of deformed Monstrosities. Monstrosities that reached out for him, ripping through his clothes and tearing away at his skin. His freshly oozing blood seeped out with great ferver, painting the graves around him and soiling the dank, sodden ground, turning it to a steamy quicksand. Again he tried to run. Sweat began to mix with sticky crimson. And The Creatures came at him again, relentless in thwarting his escape. They pulled him in. Deep down into the bloody mud he sank. He resisted. He struggled. The Things pulled him even farther. He was suffocating now. His lungs filled with dirt. His mouth filled with the sour taste of his own rotting life. With one last effort, he powered himself out, collapsing on the ground beside. He felt a chill. He looked down at himself, only to find his flesh had been stripped away from his ragged bones. Stripped away and stolen deep down by The Things, was the rest of him. He watched as They pulled the last of him under and sighed. He was naked bones. He looked around. The Creatures had left. They would not return. And so he sat. He decided to rest a while. He was tired. Really tired. More tired than he had ever felt before. He laid his head on the withered gravestone beside him. He felt warm. He felt at peace. He felt alive. He decided to stay there forever, as he read his own name from off the grave. He smiled. Everything finally made sense. © 2010 Suicidal CupidReviews
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2 Reviews Added on January 24, 2010 Last Updated on January 24, 2010 Author
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