Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Monday, September 11, 2006

The short story:

So I auditioned for a job yesterday and I was prompted to give the first few lines of a scary story. I figured I'd elaborate on it here:

A campfire-type ghost story of warning:


The deep darkness an expansive landscape in front of me, it culminated in a light, bright and eerie, a doorway at the end of this dark tunnel. The voice urged me on and I found myself unable to control my hands. Through the pervasive fear they clawed for an escape. The light flickered as a figure passed through the door. My eyes were adjusting, but I’d heard the screaming, I did not want to see this horror. The smell, it was bleeding flesh. The screaming has long since stopped and the figure was dragging something behind him, his heavy breaths, in uneasy convulsions, drawing ever nearer to me. I don’t even know how I got here, why I cannot leave. Why am I trapped? Why me? Why does he pursue me? The voice that urged me on, tells me not to fear. I am frozen by panic and I am distraught. I can see him now and the figure is in-human; An embodiment of this atrocity. A wide shine of a grin passes across his face like a glairing demon. It’s voice, continuing its lies, comforting words from that which I fear. The image and the smell… I want to close my eyes to this atrocity; But even in the darkness I can see that smile. And I can feel those hands upon me. I’m still trapped, and I don’t even know how I got here.


Now do me a favor and read it again, but this time keep in mind the memory of 9/11 and the stories of what those poor victims may have experienced and seen.

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