Specimen 9987-8324098 (amnionflawed) wrote in diskisses,
Specimen 9987-8324098
amnionflawed
diskisses

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egh.

heres another crap story pulled from the bowels of my ass. yay.

"Three months till winter be comin down pon our likes."
"It aint be our likes, Yttebriyum," bellowed the beastly one. "The corn
must be harvested. Fore long winter be comin down pon the fields."
I reached for the remote and clicked off the television set. All that was
on was some old farming movie about corn and a bunch of tele-ads. That
would probably be due to the time. It was 4:30 in the morning. Sleep did
not visit nor did it seem that it wanted too. In some strange way I was too
tired for sleep. My eyes just kind of floated there within my skull, all
glazed over, and that uncertain look of disbelief looming somewhere in
between. Through all the dilation and fuzziness, I could see. I could see
what was about to transpire and everything I had once known came crashing
down, imploding, into one huge voluptuous mass. The mass spited me.
Looking down upon myself, I noticed that I was still in my clothes. It was
just your average run of the mill black pants and black long sleeve shirt
with the sleeves rolled back. Over the clothing was a butchers apron.
Namely a butchers apron just so you can envision the attire. Otherwise it
was just an apron. I put it on earlier when I had to put out the messy
trash last night. I guess that I never thought of taking it off.
There was god, sitting right next to me. It was a cushy pillow with all of
its warmth capabilities. And beside it were more things of god. There sat
the blender that could puree better than any person could ever fathom. My
living quarters were kind of cluttered with things thrown about.
Stars shone their light through a small window above the precipice of the
stairwell. It was only that window too. All the other windows were
darkened, as was the moon. The stars still shone through that lone window.
It seemed as if the clouds had a purpose in separating themselves from the
stars and focusing on blocking out the moonlight. And the stars were
unusually bright. They just kind of focused there, luminaries twirling
about ever so bright. It was as if they knew. I must not focus on such
trivial things right now.
I slumped over onto the foldout couch and closed my eyes. Nothing came.
Insomniacs slept better than I ever did. So I waited staring into the abyss
of the wholesomeness of a home unkempt. I needed the time to pass. I did
not want to spend another second with these thoughts. They maddened me so.
After enough tossing about in the maelstrom of dark, light shone down
through the panes of the window. With a hue of red and a tint of orange, I
knew it was time. They knew. They knew as much as they could know if that
is what it should be called. Did they even procure organic ideas as I?
I had to be ready for them. They would try to take me, but I could not let
that happen. A struggle for life must occur. No! A struggle of everything
all at once which holds the balance of all living things. Only my brain
knows out of what is left of the others and the other place.
Breathing hampered my stealth into the darkened bedroom. I kicked aside the
clusters of clothes and magazines and reached under the bed. I groped out
for something in the darkness of under the bed filth. Somehow, a lead pipe
found its way into my hand. There was a lot of useless junk beneath that
bed.
Having the cold pipe, I streaked into the kitchen. My vision blurred with
motion. Opening the cabinet next to the sink, I reached for the knives. I
obviously missed when I gashed open my hand. It must have been pretty deep,
because the blood flowed out everywhere. The blood got all over me. I
smeared it about the apron trying to dry my hands, but the cut was too deep.
After some time of myself foolishly spluttering the blood all around and
about myself, I found a tourniquet under the sink and wrapped the thing
around my bloody hand. I reached back in the drawer and got a nice long
serrated knife. With lead pipe and knife in hand, I felt accomplished. Now
I sit near the front door and I wait. I wait!

~ *~ ~*~ ~*~

The children looked on toward the darkened house in comparison with the lit
up houses on the street. All the other children were ringing doorbells,
greeting the strangers inside, and getting candy.
"I dare you to ring that dark houses doorbell," one of the children
squeaked.



ok its over now. if you want to sufficiently understate the story add this peice on.



The child ran up to the door. The doorbell buzzed as the chubby finger met
it. The door creaked open just a bit.
"Can I help you?" the blood covered occupant asked.
"Trick or Treat!"
"I do not celebrate this Halloween."
The children squealed and took off to the next house.
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