(no subject)
... i'm starting to become desensitized to this.. this whole incident... the smells. the decay.... the rot. even the lumop of terror and nausea that would come to rest in my stomcah is beginning to fade... once there, dragging me down with its weight in horror. i think the load has lightened was my sanity begins to wane... i'm beginning to see things that aren't real...
... i walked into a lobby of a hotel last night... my body was aching for rest in an actual bed, couple that with the fact that i have been walking through deserted streets of the business section all day... i was exhausted to the bone... however, i walked in, and that lump in my stomach stopped me in my tracks... everything in the lobby was perfectly neat... untouched... but i could feel in my gut something was wrong...
... little girls playing in front a doorway with their dolls... it was room 101 on the first floor, the first i came to... when i first saw them, i thought that there was someone here... someone who could help me, tell me whats going on in this hell... then something happened, a flicker of light from the dim flourescnet bulbs above and they were gone...
... door to room 101 was propped open by something small and pale.... the lights were shut off within and the lights in the hallway would not stay stable enough for me to see what it was... i reached for the door knob and slowly opened the door...
... door swung open with surprising ease, as if it wanted to spill out the secret terror it held within... my eyes could not take in all of it... but the image... the image is engrained.. carved into my head...
... the little girls sat, playing with their dolls... each doll nailed to there hands... no happiness shown on their face, only the look of absent fear that only the most terrible of deaths could bring... fingers were cut off and strewn about the roo in what seemed a random act... blood spattered over their playing table, covering their Sunday dresses as well as their dolls... stiff boards were inserted into their backs and nailed to the back of the cairs to ensure they stayed propped up in their demented merriment...
... my eyes watered from the smell and horror... over the bed, written in the little girls blood read, "please, tell me i'm not crazy." the writing was amazingly straight and professional looking...
.. all 250 rooms in that hotel had the same exact image inside them... three little girls, faces bent in twisted in sorrowful death, dolls pinned in hand... soemtimes stitched to them... missing fingers propping the doors open, a cracked portal into insanity... over each bed, spilled the inhumanity of a mad man...
... i walked into a lobby of a hotel last night... my body was aching for rest in an actual bed, couple that with the fact that i have been walking through deserted streets of the business section all day... i was exhausted to the bone... however, i walked in, and that lump in my stomach stopped me in my tracks... everything in the lobby was perfectly neat... untouched... but i could feel in my gut something was wrong...
... little girls playing in front a doorway with their dolls... it was room 101 on the first floor, the first i came to... when i first saw them, i thought that there was someone here... someone who could help me, tell me whats going on in this hell... then something happened, a flicker of light from the dim flourescnet bulbs above and they were gone...
... door to room 101 was propped open by something small and pale.... the lights were shut off within and the lights in the hallway would not stay stable enough for me to see what it was... i reached for the door knob and slowly opened the door...
... door swung open with surprising ease, as if it wanted to spill out the secret terror it held within... my eyes could not take in all of it... but the image... the image is engrained.. carved into my head...
... the little girls sat, playing with their dolls... each doll nailed to there hands... no happiness shown on their face, only the look of absent fear that only the most terrible of deaths could bring... fingers were cut off and strewn about the roo in what seemed a random act... blood spattered over their playing table, covering their Sunday dresses as well as their dolls... stiff boards were inserted into their backs and nailed to the back of the cairs to ensure they stayed propped up in their demented merriment...
... my eyes watered from the smell and horror... over the bed, written in the little girls blood read, "please, tell me i'm not crazy." the writing was amazingly straight and professional looking...
.. all 250 rooms in that hotel had the same exact image inside them... three little girls, faces bent in twisted in sorrowful death, dolls pinned in hand... soemtimes stitched to them... missing fingers propping the doors open, a cracked portal into insanity... over each bed, spilled the inhumanity of a mad man...