One breath later, a hazy of blur had brimmed in his eyes. One step later, hot pain had blasted up his thin leg. Who was he? But a meek, cadaverous phantom, chalky face broadcasting small remnants of what he used to be. But now he was. A thin skeleton, writhing under the covers of a creaky bed. In a cold dark room, whose walls whispered of innocent souls, violently splattered on them. He had run. They had caught him. He had pleaded. But they had smiled. He had fought. But lost. They had poured a torrent of acid down his throat. He gurgled, droplets of blood excitedly jumping out of his mouth. His stomach had scorched. His taste buds, unwoven to reveal pink chunks of flesh. He had swelled up in his chest. Bled inside. Ripped his clothes out of maddening pain. Fell limply to the floor then…got engulfed by the darkness.
But now, the pain had come. Falling slowly with the tears that dripped softly to the cold masonry below. He ran his glittering eyes around the bricks, slimy gray blocks used to structure his own private little hell. It could be you!
M.V DARKO