Impaled by your own dark beauty
I grow paler
Paler still
Or shouldn’t my fingertips glow
With crimson red?

While I stare in wonder at the two half dead people with that disease I just about vomit.
They are sitting in a dank corner, mouths agape. I stare at their helpless faces, their eyes crying blood and the gashes where the rash had itched so bad they had had to tear their skin. Dried snot mats their upper lips and their teeth rotting and yellow-brown. The immense amount of sweat coming from their forehead like a breaking dam seems almost impossible. In their eyes I can see that the sickness had taken over and they would hurt or kill for something’s meat. Breathing deep I move forward a step.

My eyes swerve down to their frail bodies. Both males are shirtless and like their face their chests show gashes where fingernails had ripped at. Their skin reminds me of a ghost and their being dangerously thin gives them a sort of transparent look. Coating their skin lay blisters oozing with puss and dark patches of purple. As I trace my gaze to their arms I notice smaller scratches as if they had been scratched by smaller animals and they have bite marks by their muscles which keep twitching into spasms. The hands at their waist are sweating terribly and their nails can only be described as cracked, dust-engrossed windows. I can’t see their legs because they are covered but they too look terribly thin.

The odor surrounding them could be the most putrid thing I’d smelled in my life. The strangest sound protrudes from their mouths, like a pained moan and the whimper of a dog when its leg is smashed by a large branch. I feel nauseous and like the thick air in the room is closing in on me.

What’s wrong with me, I just vomiteded and I cannot figure out if it was the sight or something more. Am I losing control of myself? Suddenly a part of me sees the two helpless men in the corner as helpless prey. My teeth are bared, fingernails ready to pierce through flesh. The only thing I can control are my hands, but for how much longer? Why am I walking towards them with a sense of excitement and hunger? I don’t know what’s wrong with me but.................

March 20, 2010

I am full now.

Soooooooooo ... don't get out of the cabin in Montana much, do ya?
Been playing around with a little macabre writing?
Yep, Montana winters and deep snow will do that to ya.
Let's hope the sun breaks through and frees your twisted lil' brain.
I am through now.

We actually have a 'artist & writers' category for these type of contributions. I'll move this there.

hmm....

Ok,wow that was very different, and interestingly strange!

Gatofeo, this was a story I had to write for school. My teacher gave me a subject and it took me over a two weeks to write and perfect every detail...

But otherwise thanks guys