Her body crushed from the weight of the rubble and flesh removed where I satisfied my maddening hunger, eaten down to the bone. Her exuberant eyes gouged out and her lower jaw completely gone and placed into my mind to haunt me for my heinous deed. I placed my hands upon a small and flat piece of stone and lifted and shrieked with horror to see the face of my lover. The pool now was blood and could not satisfy me. I had to stop many times, my mouth dry from anticipation and terrible horror. Every rock I removed made it seem like my entire body was to wrack itself out of its joints and separate itself from the soul. I could feel the blood pumping in my ears. I slowly rose and walked towards the pile, steering myself away from the blood and began to remove the rocks. I was calming down, mustering courage to find out what secret the rubble hid. I sat there looking at the pool, which had somehow become a pool of blood that appeared to have run from under the rubble. I shook my hands and stumbled back against the wall, dust fell as my body collided with its surface. I rubbed my hands together to make sure I removed the blood, but when I lifted my hands out of the pool they were coated in fresh blood. I made my way to the pool and dipped my hands in. It wasn't fresh, but the aroma undeniable. When I looked down at my trembling hands they were covered in blood. While the shaking and sweating was recurrent every morning, something was amiss this time. No doubt it was a nightmare responsible for this reaction, but the visions never come back. However I can never remember what it was that I had dreamt about. I was sweating profusely and my body was trembling. The thought of uncovering what's underneath sends chills through my body and that is enough reason for me to avoid it at all costs. I have only strayed near it because a pool of warm water has formed to its side and I must satiate my thirst. I know not the origins of these feelings but the fear seems to overwhelm the curiosity. Something inside of me tells me that answers lie under the rocks, but I am also afraid of it. Also, there is a large pile of rubble that sits towards the middle of the room.
#Redhand lb cracked
The cracked walls and the broken tiles on the floor show signs of wear and tear along with aging. To keep my mind on other things I usually lie on my back and think about how I got here. I see it always across the room from me as if waiting for the opportune time to ravage me at the moment I lose myself. I think this room has brought this fear alive. I have marked out her eyes and smile in all of my paintings in hopes to forget the scrap that challenges my sanity. I had tried so hard to remember it that now I cannot forget. She is now the Cheshire Cat that haunts me asleep and awake. Her face was once warm and loving, now only a sinister smile and glaring eyes accompany my dreams. Finally she descended into the large pile of forgotten memories, however her eyes and smile remain. In my mind her features had slowly blended into each other and formed a bland idea of the way she once was, never to be renewed.
Every picture is different so I have no way of telling how she looked anymore. I've painted her so many times my mind made her change, replacing subtle nuances with unfamiliar pretense. However that memory has long since faded. I painted her so many times on the walls trying to capture that memory to keep me company. Her smile was brilliant and her eyes were so exuberant that they burned into my memory. When I first came here she was still fresh in my mind. I'm doomed to stay in this room for the rest of eternity only left to my thoughts.
how fast does it fly when you have no way to keep track of it? Does it just stay still? It must because I have yet to feel hunger in what seems a long time. They say time flies when you're having fun. I'm not sure how long I've been down here, but it already seems like an eternity.
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