rarh
So here's a short story I wrote in bed the other morning, it has no title.
He brushed with little enthusiasm, to him the chore of cleaning one's teeth seemed pointless, why the need for the bright whites when you aren't smiliing, he struggled to recall a smile.
Onto the aptly named 'wisdom' teeth - pain of existing beyond your teen years, should be the sign to take leave, this task was nearing completion.
Rinsing his mouth once, twice...a tinge of red in that one?
Excitment grew within him, fear rose in his stomach, 'wonderful' he thought.
He begun to brush with more vigour, he could feel the plastic of the brush on his teeth as the bristles were bent horizontally and penetrated his numerous cavities. Slow grinding, loud, he could hear it all around him, eminating from within his jaw. He imagined the enamel crying out, begging for mercy that was not going to come, another rinse and the red exhumed from his mouth like treacle. There was no white amongst that cleansing.
Gleefully, he continued to brush...the pain searing through his jaw, the top row now, crying out for their dues.
Thirty years of dental care he thought, cancelled out on a whim of fancy, his gums torn, teeth loose in their trenches and the blood, the blood, dripped from his lips as it does for a vampire, he felt alive.
This degredation of self excited the man, he felt his heart racing, the blood pumping to all his extremities.
Coughing now, as his blood filled mouth begun to overflow, the warm crimson flowing back down into himself, with any luck, into his lungs, he envisioned suffocating on it, his lungs exploding within their cage, protruding from all directions.
Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out his razor, sitting now he sticks his tongue out and begins to drag the blades across, the spongey flesh grazes at first, then with a criss-cross motion the blood races to the forefront of the cuts, it flows like a small river, out, and down, to the tip where it begins to form and drip slowly into his lap. Laughing wildly, blood spats along the walls as he positions himself in the centre of the room, lays down, closes his mouth and waits...for the earth-shattering kaboom....
All entries © of David Martin. 2009.