(no subject)
this may seem to be a departure from the story, but trust me, it's not. it's just a little more obscure. it goes with what was started in last entry.
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Charles had a strange problem. The carpet cleaning professionals, their lifeless bodies, lay still on his floor, forming two new stains. that made three stains on his carpet that were more than a bit complicated to explain. silently he sat, and prayed to his mother. a pink warm light filled him. it was time for work. Charles whistled quietly and merrily as he worked, disassembaling the bodies until they were small enough for the garbage disposal located conveniently in his right kitchen sink. Once the bodies were disposed of, Charles sat on his favourite chair and lit a cigarette. He focused on the smoke as it rose to the ceiling, as he wished he could.
Charles was never the standard human being that you would pass on the street. There was nothing special about his appearance (he was short and a little portly), but something made you look twice. Charles was born special, a white soul, and a soft heart. This was at his disadvantage. As a white sheet is easily stained, a white soul is easily tarnished by the attacks of a soul blackened by an evil infection. This infection lives especially strong in school children. Charles was an easy, unmoving target for the evil bred into children's souls from the age of birth. Just as an untreated soar is prone to infection, a soft heart is prone to harden under the attack of evil's virus.
Charles was sitting in his favourite chair. Painfully, he rose to his feet and marked two more marks onto his living room wall, behind the Television set. There were now 12 such marks, lined up symmetrically on his wall. He went to his room to retreat into sleep. A nap would help him feel better.
His apartments smelled of the sharp, pungent smell of rubbing alcohol and gasoline. Pouring himself a bottle of his favourite white wine, he lit another cigarette and dropped the match on the floor. He drifted into the most heavenly sleep in his life. How short it would be.
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Charles awoke with the faint, now familiar smell in his nostrils. surely it becomes familiar after years of acquantence. Slowly the darkness that surrounded him lessened as his eyes adjusted themselves. His home was as it used to be, only darker, and surrounded by the mismatched and often neglected body parts he so dearly loved.
Who knew heaven was so close?
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Charles had a strange problem. The carpet cleaning professionals, their lifeless bodies, lay still on his floor, forming two new stains. that made three stains on his carpet that were more than a bit complicated to explain. silently he sat, and prayed to his mother. a pink warm light filled him. it was time for work. Charles whistled quietly and merrily as he worked, disassembaling the bodies until they were small enough for the garbage disposal located conveniently in his right kitchen sink. Once the bodies were disposed of, Charles sat on his favourite chair and lit a cigarette. He focused on the smoke as it rose to the ceiling, as he wished he could.
Charles was never the standard human being that you would pass on the street. There was nothing special about his appearance (he was short and a little portly), but something made you look twice. Charles was born special, a white soul, and a soft heart. This was at his disadvantage. As a white sheet is easily stained, a white soul is easily tarnished by the attacks of a soul blackened by an evil infection. This infection lives especially strong in school children. Charles was an easy, unmoving target for the evil bred into children's souls from the age of birth. Just as an untreated soar is prone to infection, a soft heart is prone to harden under the attack of evil's virus.
Charles was sitting in his favourite chair. Painfully, he rose to his feet and marked two more marks onto his living room wall, behind the Television set. There were now 12 such marks, lined up symmetrically on his wall. He went to his room to retreat into sleep. A nap would help him feel better.
His apartments smelled of the sharp, pungent smell of rubbing alcohol and gasoline. Pouring himself a bottle of his favourite white wine, he lit another cigarette and dropped the match on the floor. He drifted into the most heavenly sleep in his life. How short it would be.
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Charles awoke with the faint, now familiar smell in his nostrils. surely it becomes familiar after years of acquantence. Slowly the darkness that surrounded him lessened as his eyes adjusted themselves. His home was as it used to be, only darker, and surrounded by the mismatched and often neglected body parts he so dearly loved.
Who knew heaven was so close?