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Chapter 3
I got back from work and slumped onto my grimey couch. Memories of the morning flickered through my head, and I remembered the hand print. I forgot to wash it up. Groaning, I went to my cleaning cupboard to grab the supplies required. After grabbing my washing equipment, I walked to my kitchen and looked at the wall. Strange, I swear I put a handprint on the wall. Just like I swear that I threw the bowl of cereal I was eating onto the wall. I crouched down and looked under my table. All I fould was a shard of ceramic on the ground. There should be more, I knew there should. But I cannot find them. I picked up the lone ceramic shard. It felt sticky. And so did my hands as soon as I picked it up. Looking at my hands, I saw they were covered in a red liquid, what I could only presume blood. And so was the ceramic shard. It was almost like the shard was producing the blood, for it was seeping down from it at alarming rates. In my panicked state, I dropped the shard, it fell and splatted on the floor, the blood beginning to puddle.
"I shouldn't stay here for much longer...", I exclaimed out loud, before running into my bathroom, washing my hands. My reflection had turned a pale, ghastly white. My eyes, bloodshot. My mouth, chapped and dry. This must be a dream, I couldn't think of any logical explanation for this. "Maybe if I was to sleep, it would go away?" I pondered to myself. So, I lay in my bed. Trying to rest was useless. I was too fearful. So I just lay, eyes wide, sweaty, scared and tired.
A Madmans Messages|3
Written By: Inigo Barratt
Fiction
A Madmans Messages
over and over again expecting...
I got back from work and slumped onto my grimey couch. Memories of the morning flickered through my head, and I remembered the hand print. I forgot to wash it up. Groaning, I went to my cleaning cupboard to grab the supplies required. After grabbing my washing equipment, I walked to my kitchen and looked at the wall. Strange, I swear I put a handprint on the wall. Just like I swear that I threw the bowl of cereal I was eating onto the wall. I crouched down and looked under my table. All I fould was a shard of ceramic on the ground. There should be more, I knew there should. But I cannot find them. I picked up the lone ceramic shard. It felt sticky. And so did my hands as soon as I picked it up. Looking at my hands, I saw they were covered in a red liquid, what I could only presume blood. And so was the ceramic shard. It was almost like the shard was producing the blood, for it was seeping down from it at alarming rates. In my panicked state, I dropped the shard, it fell and splatted on the floor, the blood beginning to puddle.
"I shouldn't stay here for much longer...", I exclaimed out loud, before running into my bathroom, washing my hands. My reflection had turned a pale, ghastly white. My eyes, bloodshot. My mouth, chapped and dry. This must be a dream, I couldn't think of any logical explanation for this. "Maybe if I was to sleep, it would go away?" I pondered to myself. So, I lay in my bed. Trying to rest was useless. I was too fearful. So I just lay, eyes wide, sweaty, scared and tired.