Ripped The Fuck Apart

Thousands upon thousands of sickly green creatures hobbled over the hills, heading towards us. All two hundred and ninety-nine of us cocked our guns.
They came closer and closer, their feet thundering against the ground.
We aimed.
I thought about my wife who was taken from me last night, who was supposed to be fighting along side us tonight.
"KILL THEM ALL!"
I shouted so hard, I choked the last word with small bits of flesh blood.
The battlefield lit with our fire. We mowed those disgusting bastards down, but they still kept coming.
"Keep them back until the drivers show up," one of the commanders shouted.
I watched them fall, turn into thin, green smoke, floating away until one of their comrades inhaled them, eyes glowing.
They flooded the field before us. There were more and more and more and more. Their pack came closer and closer to us. A raging stampede, like a tidal wave, so much larger then us. I could feel fear creeping up my spine, trying to make it's way into my mind and seizing my body. I forced myself to think of my wife's violated and mutilated body, and I felt the icy fear melt away to white-hot rage.
We kept firing for what felt like hours, for what was most likely five minutes.
Finally, we could see the drivers, floating on top of the bastards. Wraiths. Wraiths were driving the pack, as dogs would drive a herd of sheep. The shrouded figures danced in the air, wiping and striking at the sluagh with their sharp claws and their long tongues.
"Wraiths!" Someone shouted.
"Take 'em down!"
We all let go a cry so loud, I swore I could see the wraiths tremble. We charged directly into the sea of monsters, firing and screaming.
Most of the sluagh moved out of our way, but there was too many of them for them to all move. So I shot at their legs, making them fall down. I climbed on top of their flailing bodies, running toward the wraith near me. I jumped from the head of a sluagh and struck the wraith with the butt of my gun. It came crashing down with me onto the sluagh, and I was nearly trampled. I got up and found the wraith floating inches from me. I shoved my gun into it's hood, and pulled the trigger. Immediately after it dissipated, I could see the nearby sluagh disperse.
We continued to take down the wraiths, fighting our way through the thick crowd, mowing them down as we went.
The pack continued to disperse in wild directions. We were fucking them up. We were winning. When the pack had almost completely gone, I saw one last wraith, floating left and right, distraught and frantic. I walked up to it, and it turned to me. It turned back to try and get away, but I had grabbed the tails of it's shroud and pulled it back towards me, slamming it to the ground. I brought my gun up, and struck the back of it's head with the butt of my gun. I raised my gun again, and brought it down hard. And again, and again, and again, relishing every shriek it made. Finally, it dissipated into green smoke.
I stood up and saw all the soldiers staring at me. I slung my gun over my shoulder and walked away. I prayed to whatever fucked up god there was that under a large, star light sky, my wife was waiting for me when my time was up.

Stars In The Night Sky With You Next To Me

A cool summer breeze dances so gently with the grass and the trees as it passes over me, like a ghost who haunts so lovingly. The stars, more than any human number can count, stretch across the sky like some sort of beautiful diamond sand scattered across an immense black cloth.
Despite all my problems, I can't help but smile.
The sky ends far, far away in the horizon all around me, where the hills start to roll. The air is so crisp here. There's no city lights to rob the stars from me. The wind's quiet whisper is the only background noise to my thoughts.
Everything bad that's ever happened to me, that I've ever made happen to other people... it just slips away in this place.
There's no moon here. There's nothing but the stars. They just take up the whole sky. If you stare at them long enough, you can hear them singing.
The grass greets my skin like a mother's fingers on her newborn, and it's cool touch raises the hairs on my skin. She came over and laid down in the grass with me.
She speaks to me with the softest, sweetest voice.
"Hi." I didn't need to look at her eyes to see that they were smiling.
"Hey," I smiled back.
"The winds are shifting again. We're readying all the strength we have, but it won't be nearly enough."
How can someone make such bad news sound so delightful to my ears?
"I know."
"We need to head back soon."
"I know."
She says she hates it when I say that, but real hate doesn't have that much love behind those big beautiful eyes of hers. They're even deeper than the night sky here. In her eyes, you could fit twice the number of stars in the sky.
"Will you stay with me for a while?"
"Yes," she says.
"Thank you."
I didn't care that we were losing the war. I didn't care that the fate of every single soul was at stake. In this moment, nothing matters.
She curls up to me closer, putting her head on my shoulder.
We stared at the night stars for what I wished was forever, remembering that everything we ever fought for was for moments like this.
The sky was vast, and the stars shone on. How I felt for her felt as strong and as vast as that night sky.
Gods, whatever happens, bring her back to me in this place. There's no other heaven out there for me.

Salvation Through Mutilation I

My hands felt the vibrations when my crowbar connected with his jaw. Teeth, blood and spit spewed from his mouth as he fell down on the small utility room's cold concrete floor.
I pressed the straight point of the crowbar against his neck, gently.
"Girl. Where is she?"
He coughed and moaned. I slid my hand down the crowbar and then slammed the curved end into his knee. He snapped upright in pain. I then grabbed him by the hair and stepped on his fingers, and put as much weight into my foot as I could.
"You don't want to answer me. Keep it up, I'm going to become very frustrated and swing this bar into your throat, and it's going to crush your larynx. Then you won't be able to speak. Then I'm going to get very angry," I said, twisting my foot on his fingers. He groaned again, a little more loudly.
"Because I know you know where she is. And then you won't be able tell me. Right now you simply can tell me. So, let me ask again."
I pressed the crowbar against his neck, hard.
"Where is the girl?"
He coughed up what sounded like "less wind."
"West wing?" I asked.
He nodded.
I let go of him, and he slumped to the floor. He opened his eyes, only to see my crowbar go straight to him, straight through his eye and sink into his pinkish gray matter.
I pulled out my crowbar and ran out of the room, and headed towards the west wing.

It was a pedophile convention, basically. There was no official host, just a series of fake paper trails and websites with broken links. They contacted registered sex offenders, certain NAMBLA members and other people through various internet liaisons.
Don't ask me how, because I don't know. I'm not a detective. I just got lucky.
They assembled these people into a hotel, booked under some fake men's group. For the most part, it was revolting... but harmless. They were just looking for kinship, I guess. A bunch of middle and old aged men, circle jerking and conversing about bullshit, their fantasies and crimes.
Revolting, but harmless. For the most part.
I don't know what it is about mob mentalities, but there's always those few that take it to the next level. A small group of five men grabbed a little girl and brought her to their room. Just thinking what was going on made me sick to my stomach.

I had entered their fake convention using my own fake names. I made my way through, small talk and conversation, learning and listening, 'till I found what I was looking for. A thin, blond and nervous young man named Jones stood in the corner, away from the crowd and the socializing. I slipped a small note underneath a full glass that a waiter was bringing to the other side of the room, then headed towards my man.
"Hello, Jonesy," I said.
He looked at me, and panicked. He tried to run.
I grabbed him in a tight hug.
"You're not going anywhere."
Of course, to random onlookers, it would seem like friendly comradery, not the brutal murder that was about to happen. (Not that it makes a difference, but I hadn't planned on killing him at that point.)
What I had planned, however, happened exactly on time. About three seconds after I grabbed Jones, a fight broke out on the other side of the room between one of the waiters and one of the guests. All eyes turned towards the scene, save two pairs.
"I need to know something, Jones."
I opened the door to the utility room, grabbed the crowbar that lay inside on the door frame, and dragged Jonesy in.
As you know, I got my answer.


The utility room and the door to the west wing were right next to each other, so I had no problems avoiding the crowd, which thankfully were still watching the ongoing show.
All the wings connected to the main building via these small little annexing hallways, which were basically just a stretch of carpet, windows and white ceilings with low lighting.
The actual west wing was at the end of this hallway, and I knew the next asshole would be waiting behind those doors.
I stayed in the shadows, hunkered as low as I could. I could see the back of someone's head through the small window pane.
The head turned around and looked frantically into the hallway. He saw the door close at the other end, but he didn't see me come in. If he would've come in right away to tell me that section was under renovation right away. Or hid from the doorway's window if he knew I knew where I was going.
But he didn't. He didn't even see me coming. He didn't know I was there until a few instants after I slammed the door open, smashing his body into the wall, sandwiching him with the door. I grabbed his shirt collar and let go of the door.
"Where's the girl, asshole?"
I threw him onto the floor and kicked his ribs. I turned his face towards my crowbar.
"This is stained with your friend's blood, eye juice and brain grease. I'll be less patient with you. Where is the girl?"
He spat on my face and grabbed my feet and tugged. I lost my balance and fell downwards. He was on top of me, lashing my face with fists. He was a lot stronger then I was, and weighed a good twenty pounds to forty pounds more then I did.
Every time I tried to get him off me, duck or block punches, he just got me harder. I felt my skin breaking and bleeding all over my face.
Then and there, I don't know why, but I thought of the girl. Playing in the park. I was sitting down, enjoying the sun. Then the guy with the leather jacket and sunglasses, swooping down to pick her up. Then running after him. Then the blue jeep driving off fast. The girl peering through the back jeep window, brown eyes wide and big and scared.
I grabbed my crowbar and shoved the straight end upwards into his armpit. He twitched, groaned and slumped to my right. It was just for a moment, but it was enough to get momentum to get him off me.
I swung the crowbar into his kneecaps as soon as I stood up. I stomped on his right hand and squeezed the crowbar against his throat.
He smiled a smile I didn't like and wheezed out "room twenty one."
I let the pressure off his neck slightly, and realized my mistake too late to kick my reaction in gear in time.
In a flash, he swung toward my leg and I felt a prick and a tingle at my calf. Immediately I stumbled and rolled away from him. I looked down and saw an empty syringe stuck in my leg. I ripped it out and threw it away.
I got up and proceeded to turn his insides into bone and muscle mush meal. After I got my anger out, I dragged his body into a room. I was glad they weren't locked. I left his body on the floor and went to the bathroom to clean my face. I wondered, with a little shiver, what he was smiling about. Was I too late? Did they already fuck her and kill her? I started for the door.
Did they already ram themselves into that sweet flesh?
I stopped dead in my tracks.
What-?
I was both intrigued and revolted by that thought.
I looked at the body. It was still warm. I stuck my fingers into his mouth. It was warm. I was enthralled.
I looked away, disgusted by my sexually compulsive actions. I also had a raging hard on. I thought about ramming my dick into his wounds the same way he fucking stuck me with the syr-
and it hit me with obvious clarity.
He drugged me, and I was high off an aphrodisiac.
I couldn't go to the girl. The compulsion would be too strong. I punched the mirror in the bathroom in a rage.
That's why he smiled when he told me the room number. He knew what I would do. And I couldn't allow the possibility of another monster in the same room as her.
I thought of the clarity the pain of the broken glass on my skin brought, so I grabbed a large shard of the broken mirror and ran a deep scar down my arm. I could feel the flesh ripping, and the adrenaline continuing to pump hard... But after a few seconds, that burning want came back. And buried beneath it, my despair.
If I couldn't beat the lust into submission, I would cut it out.
So I pulled down my pants, grabbed my penis and my testicles, and pulled them out as far as I could.
Lorena Bobbitt popped in my head, and I smiled.
I swung my arm and let the sharp shard hack at the base of my genitals. Pain screamed at me, so I screamed back at it. The first cut was deep, but only about a fourth of the way through.
So I swung again. Blackness swam at my mind, and I pushed it back.
Almost done.
I thought of the expression, 'swaying in the wind,' and laughed weakly.
I swung a third and final time.
Relief and dull ache flowed through me as I struggled to keep conscious.
I wiped the blood off my arm. I unconsciously brought it to my mouth and licked. I licked again. And again. I slobbered my tongue over my entire arm, and began to sob.
I just wanted to eat. And lick. I had only done half of the job.
So I pulled out my tongue, and a weak, trembling hand pressed the shard against the back of my mouth. I fought the gag reflex, focused and brought my hand down and out. I felt the shard slip and my tongue burned with intense fire. Again the blackness came, stronger. My reflection shocked me into focus.
I stared, in horror, at the botched operation I had just done. In what remained of the mirror, I saw that I hadn't sliced my tongue off. I had cut off the upper portion, from the back to the tip. My tongue looked like a grotesque oyster that opened at the tip. I yanked in fury at the dangling flesh, tearing it off from the few strands of muscle it hung from. I thought of licking metal poles in the winter as a kid.
I was bleeding profusely from my mouth now. Blood was overflowing at my jaw and spilling down my neck, onto my shirt. I spat (with pain,) and grabbed some clean cloth from the first aid cabinet. I balled it up and put it in my mouth. I couldn't feel any blood leaking into my throat. That was good. I was also lucky as fuck that I didn't damage any nerves. My lips and jaw could remain closed.
I grabbed some gauze and wrapped myself up like a sumo wrestler. The sting was intense.

I pulled my pants back up and hobbled out of the room, and down the west wing. I turned the corner and continued down the rest of the hall.
Seventeen.
Sore beyond belief.
Eighteen.
Could I do it like this?
Nineteen.
Twenty.
No answers. Only the girl.
I screamed a garbled scream as I smashed through twenty one.

The door splintered open at the jambs. I saw three men turn around. There was a fat one, a man with a scar, and the dark haired man that took the girl. The fat man yelled something. He turned again, and I saw her.
Her shirt was torn, and her face was scrunched up and wet from crying.
I clenched my crowbar and raised it to swing.
The scarred man was faster then I was, and punched me in the gut. I brought my arms down as hard as I could, but it was no where near strong enough. He grunted at the curved end hit him in the shoulder, and he faltered, but didn't fall.
The fat man lunged at me, and I swung to him, harder. The crowbar caught him in the face and he tumbled sideways. I turned back to the scarred man, only to find the dark haired man ramming into me. I fell backwards against the wall. A kick in my ribs kept me from getting up. I saw the three of them surround me. Kicking. I shouted and kicked one in the shin, and slammed the crowbar in between another one's legs. The fat man and the dark haired man fell. The scarred man tried to get on top of me, but I rolled and put myself behind him. I grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the wall, pulled him back and threw him onto the fat man, still trying to get up. I grabbed the lamp that fell from the dresser next to the bed (the girl) and threw it at the dark haired man as he came towards me. He fell backwards again, screaming.
I noticed the scarred man and the fat man still struggling to get up. I helped the scarred man up, and kicked the fat man in his chest, aiming for the nipple. The burst of sound he made suggested I was pretty spot on. As for the scarred man I was still holding in my right hand, I threw him into the bathroom. He tripped over the rug and hit his head on the corner of the sink. I grabbed his hair and slammed his head onto the toilet tank, then dunked it into the bowl. He began to lift his head up, his arms on the seat, shaking as if he was lifting a great weight. I grabbed the lid of the tank, and rammed it into the back of his head.
At that moment, the fat man was running into the bathroom with my crowbar. I had dropped it when I threw the scarred man into the wall, and I barley had time to curse myself for leaving it lying around so carelessly. I lifted my leg to kick him back, but pain grabbed my crotch (or what was left) and pulled me down, making me fall towards the fat man. He bounced me backwards, and I fell through the glass curtain of the shower, spraying shards everywhere into the tub. I wondered briefly if I was going to get used to breaking glass with my body parts. That thought was interrupted by my head smacking the tiles of the shower. I opened my eyes and saw him ready to kiss my face with the crowbar, like a cue hitting an eight ball. I grabbed a handful of shards and threw it at his face. He cursed as he shielded his eyes. I grabbed his shirt with my left, a shard of glass with my right and aimed for his jugular. I missed and sunk it in between his shoulder and the neck. He squealed and I went to grab my crowbar that he dropped on the floor. When I stood back up, the dark haired man's fist swing into my jaw. Stars splattered across my eyes after the white hot flash exploded in my skull.
I fell onto the fat man, and I felt a hand pull me up and throw me out of the bathroom. I rolled on the carpet, and began to get up. I noticed the television on a stool-like stand to my left. The dark haired man saw me look at it.
"Let me at him," the fat man grunted as he bolted past the dark haired man.
"No, you idiot!"
He warned him too late. I grabbed the legs of the stand and, as hard as I could, swung it towards the fat man. He flipped as the television connected at his thighs, landing on his head, rolling onto his back. I was still holding the stand. I proceeded to bring it down on his face, and then again, and again.
A blur from the corner of my eye made me instinctively raise the stand in a defensive stance. I saw crowbar's straight end pierce through the flat part of the stand. The dark haired man pulled both the crowbar and the stand away from me, throwing it to the side.
"You piece of shit," he said.
I threw myself at him, and we struggled. We tumbled to the floor, and I was made painfully aware of my self-surgery once again. He headbutted me twice, and I rolled him off me, lifted and then brought my elbow down onto the bridge of his nose. I saw him reach over for something. Seeing the crowbar at my feet, still embedded in the stand, I reached for that, and stood up as fast as I could. I faced the dark haired man, seeing a shimmering knife in his hand. I couldn't tell how big the blade was. At least four inches. Maybe six. Something to be concerned about. If I swung at him, he could easily grab the crowbar/stand with one hand, and stab me with the other. So I did what he didn't expect and swung backwards until I felt it hook on the chair behind me. I put my foot on the chair and pulled as hard as I could on the crowbar, feeling it free just in time to meet the dark haired man's knife. I parried his stab, but he was faster than me and thrust forwards again. I tried to jump to the right, but his knife sunk into the far left of my chest. I slumped to the floor as an icy hot pain spread through my lungs. Breathing became difficult. He spat at me and walked toward the bed.
I ripped the knife out and half gurgled, half wheezed a sound of rage that stopped him dead in his tracks. To be honest, I was scared myself.
I lunged at him one final time, and he reared back a fist. I felt everything go so slow, I saw him twisting his torso, blink, bring his fist to me as hard as he could. I slammed my feet into the ground and brought my crowbar upwards, watching his fist miss me, watching the crowbar's curved end sink into the bottom of his jaw, like a fish hook sinking into a fish. I then turned as I continued the momentum of my swing, bringing all that fucking rage I had into it, and threw him to the other side of the room.
I turned to face the bed, and fell to my knees. I had to use a hand to hold onto the end of the mattress to make sure I didn't fall on my face, while the other held my stab wound.
The girl had curled up into a ball on the far edge of the bed, face buried into her hands. I hated myself so much for exposing her to such brutal violence, to such horrific gore.
I wanted to say I was sorry, that I wanted to stop them from hurting her, but the furious ache in my mouth reminded me that whatever sounds I would make would only scare her more. My hand fell on her knee, hoping she would understand. She looked up, and her eyes grew wide. I could see myself in those endless black irises, how my jaw was black with blood... as was the rest of me. I turned away, realizing that I was just another monster. I stood up and headed for the door, until I felt a small hand grab my arm. I turned around and she hugged me as hard as she could. I almost pushed her away as the memory of the syringe digging into my thigh flashed in my head, but let her stay as I felt only the need to keep her safe flow through me.
I didn't care how, or why, but whatever it was was gone. I picked her up in my right arm, and limped out of the room. I held her as tight as I could.

Red and blue lights flashed for a moment as I came out from the building's west exit. The next moment, my eyes were blinded by a bright, white light, filling everything I could see. There was shouting and a loud voice, but I couldn't hear anything. I only held onto the girl.
Two shadows came near me and tried to wrestle the girl from my arms. I continued to hold tight.
NO! I thought/screamed, as they pulled her free from me. I struggled and yelled as something cold snapped on my wrists and I was brought to my knees.
In the few moments that followed, my mind began to crawl out of it's state of delirium, and I realized the girl was safe. I began to feel calm. I smiled, and I felt a few tears stream my face. I got to her in time. I saved the girl.

How far would you go to save someone?

Growing Pains

I watched the road speed by out the window, as the street lights and the trees behind them followed. Other cars sped by, towards and away from the bus I rode, the sun reflecting off their windows and mirrors.
It was at that point that I began feeling a small, subtle dull ache in my right leg. It started at the shin, and seemed to spread itself lightly downwards into my foot, and crept up to my knee.
I ignored it, allowing the music that was pouring from my headphones to invade my thoughts and clear everything out.
Yet the ache persisted. So I turned up the volume.
The bus continued on, humming and bumping on the uneven road.
With every bump, it felt like the ache fought for attention in my head. The music would be drowned out by the song from my nerves.
I continued to ignore it, until the music was no longer louder than the pain.
My knuckles gripped hard on my jeans, and I saw my knuckles go white. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my teeth clenched.
It felt like my bones were grinding against my muscles, like some invisible hands of some demon clutching and twisting and pulling on my femur.
The bus hit another bump, and I let out a cry of pain.
The passengers began to look around, wondering what was happening.
I had to inform the driver, I had to get him to stop, I had to go to the hospital. Something was not right.
I put my hand on the railing above to pull myself up, and as I began to stand upright, my nerves ceased singing and began SCREAMING their damned hymn.
Again I cried out in pain and fell back into my seat.
Fear gripped me as I felt the pounding anguish crawl into my hips. I tried to get up again, to shout for help, but instead fell over onto the floor. People who were standing near immediately moved away. The pain rose slowly up my spine and down through my other leg.
I groaned as the agony continued, still holding my right leg, where it hurt the worst.
I lifted my head from the floor, looking at my leg, and I saw my leg twist and break in different places. Bone jutted out and blood seeped and oozed, with little bits of tissue flapping and dangling out from any crevice they found in my newly opened leg.
Others around me screamed and yelled, but I couldn't hear them. My own screaming drowned them out.
I felt my hip bones collapse and crush, as if my weight was too much for them to bear. Inescapable pain sank it's fangs into my mind, driving me to madness.
My back began to spasm, thrashing wildly, until I felt my torso flip over with a sickening crunch, twisting the wind out of me. I stopped screaming. Even if I felt like I could breathe, the blood coating my throat was too thick. I lifted my face from the floor as far as I could, and dizzied at the sight I could see of the corner of my eye. My rear was still to the floor, my knees pointing upwards to the ceiling. Yet here my face was, pressed against the bottom, surrounded by shoes and legs.
The last thing I saw, before my skull began to creak, was a man holding his own hand where my blood had splattered onto, holding and rubbing, as if his hand hurt.
As if it ached.
My jaw flew open and twisted sideways, breaking at at least two points. My skull split open and my face sank in, and finally all the music stopped.

I wonder if my coroner will write it off as bad arthritis.

The Honest Truth/Loveletter

I love you. I would look at you and you would fill my eyes. I could see nothing else. I would breathe you in and my mind would spin and I would be drunk off you and I'd be smiling. Holding you close to me was holding the world close to me. You were my world and not having you drove me insane. You were a drug. When you were there, all pain was gone and all was alright. Too long with you and I couldn't handle it. But then, without you, I went insane and thought about you all the time.
I tried giving you up at first but you didn't give me up, and of course I gave in. Then that first night would happen over and over again. I should've taken you that first night... but I know that it would've only been a moment, so intense that the consequence would've burned us both.
So then the second time I tried to give you up, I went insane not speaking to you. A few hours without speaking to you and it felt like I hadn't spoken to you in days. So I tried to tell you it had to stop, it had to stop, it had to stop... I had a chance to tell you the last day I saw you... but when I saw you, everything was alright. There was no problem... life was euphoric. The sun kept shining and things would be okay.
Then, of course, as the day went on that sunshine faded and I was alone again. Insane again. Finally you told me what I had been trying to tell you for the eternity of two weeks.
It had to stop.

I told you to keep my things, not because I didn't want to deal with seeing you again, but because it was easier for me knowing that part of me was with you.
I still love you, and I know you still love me. When I saw you again, I knew it to be true.
You were just smarter than me. You were just stronger than me.
I can never forget you, only bury the pain with time until it's numbed enough for me to truly move on. And I'm trying so hard. It's been over a year and I'm trying so hard.
I love you.

And What Will Never Be

Rain rains down, hard and heavy, soaking me to the bone. The cold water beats against my face and cools the heat of my cheeks that my tears have warmed.
My bare feet feel the mud suck in each footstep. Seeing you walk to me... I know how much we've both hurt. The streetlights glow in the thick curtains of rain and the silent song of raindrops splashing the pavement is sung with heaven's silence.
Laughing from the joy I can't keep inside me. You burst in giggles. I smile. You come close.
We kiss.
Heaven's in my arms.

Outside, the rain is raining, but in my head, it's sunshine and smiling.

Hell / The Reality Nightmare

My last touch with the reality I knew, the reality others knew, would have been when I stood in my hallway. When I walked through my door, what had all happened had finally all sunk in, I could feel my organs as they changed.
My heart grew heavy and sank. It anchored my body, refusing to let me move. My lungs could not take in enough air. I was suffocating in my own body. My stomach instantly became severely famished. Always hungry, but unable to eat.
And it continued, relentless, increasing. Until finally, my senses lost touch of what was real. I could feel the inside of my chest flicker. I thought I had imagined it, until it happened again. This time, my vision blurred and distorted. I swore that the lights had dimmed as well. I could feel my insides churning. It was violent. My chest would flutter and flicker in dizzying sync with my eyesight. I believe bile spilled from my throat into my mouth, and a sickening, bitter taste filled my mouth. I could smell rot that felt like it poisoned my lungs. My skin crawled all over my body. a low pulsing infested my ears, injecting fear into my state of panic and revulsion.
The sensation in my rib cage crew stronger. There was something twisting and twitching, vile and black that needed to escape.
and in one painful, agonizing moment, it tore itself from me. my senses slowly returned.
i looked down.

oh god.

there was a giant, gaping hole in my chest. black fluid seemed to ooze and drip from it. i continued to stare at it for a while. i looked up and into a mirror, and was filled with dread and sadness.
looking back at me was a pale figure with old, matted hair. the skin was white and taunt and glistened sickeningly, with dark veins highlighting the cheeks. as for the hole in my chest, i saw that it was all the way through. all my clothes were tattered and torn.
i sat on the bench behind me and raised my cold hands to hold my head.
am i dead?
i always thought of the afterlife as what goes on in the mind... emotional and spiritual reality became more as physical reality became nothing. and i tried to continue that thought, to finish it, but i could not. it faded from my memory, leaving me with a realization that i found horrid but did not know why. everything felt so real. i could feel the harsh wood beneath my feet, i could smell rot and stink in the air. i could hear the now dim hallway i was in creaking and moaning. worst of all was the incessant ache in my chest, where that damned hole was.
i walked outside, thinking that perhaps i could escape this place. i opened my door to a dark and barren land that seemed to mock my neighborhood. houses were in shambles, the grass was replaced by dirt, and the trees were bare and old. every few trees would hold a corpse swinging from a noose. the street held strange, disgusting creates like fat, over sized red maggots sliming across the pavement. Ghoulish figures like myself stalked the stale air, aimless and wandering.
i closed the door as i re-entered my home. i sat on my bench again. i tried to search for love, for happiness, for good memories, and found none. i tried to replace the sadness with hatred. with rage. i could not. i even tried to shed tears, but my face remained dry.
i could only feel the sadness, the fear and the loneliness wash over me and drown me.

"why?" i asked.

and i only heard one whispered response.

"this is forever."