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Panic Room

It’s deadly quiet;
All I hear is the soft swish, swish
Of the axe swinging above me.

There’s no way out;
I am in a room with four steel walls;
No windows, no escaping the inevitable.


I am strapped to a gurney,
Alone in the world;
Exiled in my own nightmare.

Every second the deadly axe slowly
Descends closer and closer to my chest.
Each second brings me closer to my death.

Slowly, I become crazy;
Knowing that my end is near,
Yet nothing for me to do, but fear.

I struggle against the gurney’s straps,
Only realizing that as I do,
I’m bringing myself closer to Death’s blade.

I lie back down and start to scream;
Screaming for help,
For mercy.

The axe is so close to my chest.
I can feel that slight indent of
The axe on my shirt with each swipe.

I’m crying now;
Sobbing and praying,
Refusing to give up hope.

The blade brushes my nose
And I screech when I feel a trickle of blood,
My precious blood, flow into my mouth.

Suddenly, I can not cry.
I can not even scream.
I am just muttering endless prayers.
Then, I feel the blade brush across my chest,
My lips,
And my forehead.

The lights start to dim.
My thought become hazy;
Everything is a blur.

Everything goes black.
The pain is excruciating
And is steadily growing.

Then, a light starts to grow in the distance.
Slowly and steadily, it becomes brighter.
A phrase comes to mind.

“Don’t go into the light!”

I do anyway.


“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
if I die before I wake,
I pray for God my soul to take.”





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