Yes this is just as creepy as the title says...
What am I doing?
His black coat merged easily with the shadows.
He, furtive slid along like a thief in the night, his hands feeling the coarse concrete behind him
What am I doing?
Frozen grass creaked under his feet.
I don’t care…
He sighed nervously.
…I must…
He rubbed his livid hands, and started to clamber up the rough, slippery bricks
I can’t go back…
My child needs me… me… my boy…
I…
Suddenly, he slid off the wall, his heart skipped a bit, in desperation, he blindly grasped a sharp ledge. He felt warm blood spill on his ice cold hands, he yelped, in pain, but he was still standing, alive. He took a sore look below, swallowing hard.
Just above his head, there was a window, always open, he knew it.
He was in.
He wiped the sweat off his soaked forehead with his sleeve… he held his breath as he turned the doorknob carefully, exasperatingly slow, a weak, lacteal ray came crawling on the floor, in the misty darkness.
I looked through that thin gap, before my eyes, I had the loud silence of a cemetery, it was surrounding me, so dense I could feel it, cold and wet, on the tip of my fingers.
I stood still for a few moments, beneath my skin, I could feel the black snake, cold, long, wrap around my arms, embracing my whole body in one bite, viscid as ink, cold as a corpse.
There was an empty, little bed in the corner.
My son…
I believe I could have whitened dangerously.
A pale fool moon, shined before me, bitter rays of light, filtering barely through the white, light curtains, unveiling to my petrified gaze a low wicker chair.
Sitting on it, an evanescent, small figure.
He was bent on a guitar, and he was lightly strumming a G chord, sweetly.
Music caressed my senses, so gracefully, that I felt calm like never before, peaceful, for the first time in my life, I didn’t even feel my wound burn anymore, it had become numb… comfortably.
For a moment, just for a moment, I doubted I was alive…
I tried to get closer to the creature, but a wave of panic hit me, like a blow of winter wind, as the little shadow lifted his gaze. His complexion was pale as wax, the orbit of his eyes, vacant, deep as that night himself, gloomy as my own terror.
And… in those empty eyes, I saw a child, the child I never was.
I felt fast, restless, wind weeping through me, the dark snake, was about to inject his venom, I was cold, instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my chest, but I couldn’t feel it...
And it was then I understood, I was becoming a shadow…
I must at least give a goodnight kiss to my son, I must make sure he’s sleeping well…
I…
And meanwhile that, pale, blind ghost, with those eyes of blood and sleepless nights, kept on looking at me goodbye…
I finished writing the exact last words of this as this exact words went through my Ipod
"She said you've been having a nightmare... well it's not over yet"
Take it as a little anticipation for what will come next
This is also my most pretentious work. It is. Nothing more will be so tiring but so great in my life, I feel it.
His black coat merged easily with the shadows.
He, furtive slid along like a thief in the night, his hands feeling the coarse concrete behind him
What am I doing?
Frozen grass creaked under his feet.
I don’t care…
He sighed nervously.
…I must…
He rubbed his livid hands, and started to clamber up the rough, slippery bricks
I can’t go back…
My child needs me… me… my boy…
I…
Suddenly, he slid off the wall, his heart skipped a bit, in desperation, he blindly grasped a sharp ledge. He felt warm blood spill on his ice cold hands, he yelped, in pain, but he was still standing, alive. He took a sore look below, swallowing hard.
Just above his head, there was a window, always open, he knew it.
He was in.
He wiped the sweat off his soaked forehead with his sleeve… he held his breath as he turned the doorknob carefully, exasperatingly slow, a weak, lacteal ray came crawling on the floor, in the misty darkness.
I looked through that thin gap, before my eyes, I had the loud silence of a cemetery, it was surrounding me, so dense I could feel it, cold and wet, on the tip of my fingers.
I stood still for a few moments, beneath my skin, I could feel the black snake, cold, long, wrap around my arms, embracing my whole body in one bite, viscid as ink, cold as a corpse.
There was an empty, little bed in the corner.
My son…
I believe I could have whitened dangerously.
A pale fool moon, shined before me, bitter rays of light, filtering barely through the white, light curtains, unveiling to my petrified gaze a low wicker chair.
Sitting on it, an evanescent, small figure.
He was bent on a guitar, and he was lightly strumming a G chord, sweetly.
Music caressed my senses, so gracefully, that I felt calm like never before, peaceful, for the first time in my life, I didn’t even feel my wound burn anymore, it had become numb… comfortably.
For a moment, just for a moment, I doubted I was alive…
I tried to get closer to the creature, but a wave of panic hit me, like a blow of winter wind, as the little shadow lifted his gaze. His complexion was pale as wax, the orbit of his eyes, vacant, deep as that night himself, gloomy as my own terror.
And… in those empty eyes, I saw a child, the child I never was.
I felt fast, restless, wind weeping through me, the dark snake, was about to inject his venom, I was cold, instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my chest, but I couldn’t feel it...
And it was then I understood, I was becoming a shadow…
I must at least give a goodnight kiss to my son, I must make sure he’s sleeping well…
I…
And meanwhile that, pale, blind ghost, with those eyes of blood and sleepless nights, kept on looking at me goodbye…
I finished writing the exact last words of this as this exact words went through my Ipod
"She said you've been having a nightmare... well it's not over yet"
Take it as a little anticipation for what will come next
This is also my most pretentious work. It is. Nothing more will be so tiring but so great in my life, I feel it.