(no subject)
The room was dark, warped, twisted. Ripped straight out of a nightmare. Light sank through the window in a fine black mist. The natural rhythm of life had ceased to sound a beat. No sound penetrated the darkness but for the insane ramblings of two mad strangers, close friends no longer than two hours ago, now consumed by psychosis and dementia.
A looking-glass hung on the wall. Inside, everything was normal. A different room though, yet strangely similar. Lights burning brightly, windows closed, and the two friends waving out at the others. Yet it was no welcoming gesture. It was an unforgiving goodbye.
A flash. The room gave a violent shake and twisted itself about in a fit of rage. Silence. Stillness. So sudden that the only witnesses nearly missed it themselves, yet they never even flinched. The black haze continued to pour in.
What is this place you ask? It exists only in nightmares. Behind the closet, under the bed. It's the reason you're afraid of the dark. Who would ever believe that it was just a little girl's room? It's occupants were none the wiser.
Welcome to an acid trip.
Chris wrote this for Creative Writing. I think it's amazing. We're trying to guess what'll happen in class when he has to read it. Fuck it. It's a memoir like we were told to write. Fuck the school system if they have a problem with it.
A looking-glass hung on the wall. Inside, everything was normal. A different room though, yet strangely similar. Lights burning brightly, windows closed, and the two friends waving out at the others. Yet it was no welcoming gesture. It was an unforgiving goodbye.
A flash. The room gave a violent shake and twisted itself about in a fit of rage. Silence. Stillness. So sudden that the only witnesses nearly missed it themselves, yet they never even flinched. The black haze continued to pour in.
What is this place you ask? It exists only in nightmares. Behind the closet, under the bed. It's the reason you're afraid of the dark. Who would ever believe that it was just a little girl's room? It's occupants were none the wiser.
Welcome to an acid trip.
Chris wrote this for Creative Writing. I think it's amazing. We're trying to guess what'll happen in class when he has to read it. Fuck it. It's a memoir like we were told to write. Fuck the school system if they have a problem with it.