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 Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 1:03 am
Drip, drip, drip.
Damn faucet, always leaking. The thought barely registers in my consciousness before sleep reclaims me.
Drip, drip, drip.
I open my eyes when I realize that something is dripping on my head. I remember running and screaming, but who was doing it?
Drip, drip, drip.
Conscious again, the dripping is warm, and the cold knife blade in my hand does nothing to counteract it. I reach my free hand up to brush the wetness off my head and it comes back crimson.
Drip, drip, drip.
I glance up and see shoes. Shoes that were white but are red and dripping. I sit and see blue jeans covered in red. Kneeling, a torn black t-shirt and stained arms. Standing, a neck encircled in rope and black, clumpy hair against broad shoulders. Head tilted up slightly, and a face comes into view, swollen, splotched scarlet and once quite handsome.
Drip, drip, drip.
I remember the chocolate eyes widening in panic as the previously perfect lips, so inviting then, but now swollen and unrecognizable, said, "No, I don't think of you that way."
Drip, drip, drip.
I remember anger and striking out before he could react, forcing him to the floor. He ran, but I chased. I caught up and made him fall again, and this time, he stayed down. I tied the rope around his neck. I woke him again to give him one last chance. He shook his head and I pulled the rope over the pipe so he was suspended between the floor and the ceiling.
Drip, drip, drip.
"If I can't have you, no-one will." And I sank the knife into his heart so I could mutilate in him what he had mutilated in me. Again. Again. Aim slipped and his chest, his stomach, his arms were pierced. Again. Again.
Drip, drip, drip.
The memory fades and I'm back in the present. He hangs before me, lifeless, swollen eyes laughing as though they can see his savior behind me. I turn, but of course there's nothing there. I scream in rage and mourning and wish it would accomplish something to hang him again and settling for sheathing the knife once more in his heart and leaving it there as I turn and walk away.
Drip, drip, drip.
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Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:19 pm
is it like a short story?
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Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:44 pm
O.O;;;
Creepy. D:
I kept wondering if the narrator was male or female though. I don't think it's important for the story but I still wondered. =3
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Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 8:55 pm
Yes, it's a short story; I was trying to write a flash fiction, but I wound up at like four hundred words xd
In my head, yes, the narrator is female; you can think of it however you like, though ^^
*will move this shortly*
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