I’ve decided to do another one of these things, because, I don’t actually have a reason. I just had a good thirty extra minutes or so and decided I might as well waste my time doing something. The thing on my mind for this one? Werewolfs, for some reason. So, hopefully this isn’t terrible! - :-)
I didn’t have on shoes, that’s what I was worrying about when I had fallen after stepping on some thorns. My breath was ragged, the grass under me was damp and it was night time. My heart pounded like a drummer’s drum in the middle of that epic no one will here because he’s still in the garage, he’s giving it his all and i’m afraid my heart’s going to stop. To be honest this was all my fault. My father hunted for a living, small animals like squirrels, deers and wild pigs and the like. Not Werewolfs, until a few months ago, I may want to be my father to much. He was a man’s man, the very definition of that, I was, well, a failure on every level. That was when I decided I could do anything he could do, even though he would laugh if he heard about this idea of mine, hell, he’d do a lot more than laugh. He’d fling multiple insults my way and ask what I was going to do with my life, I still wasn’t sure, if I lived.
“Damn it all, my foot!” my voice was more nasally than I would like but I hoped this was one of those things were I was my own worst critic. I muttered a few profanities under my breath just incase someone heard me and it got around to my father.
I stood up and hobbled along a path, giving up on trying to hunt a werewolf of my own. I feel a breeze on my right thigh, as luck would have it, I tore the pants I had on. They were thin pants and wouldn’t have taken much to tear but that’s just an excuse honestly. No one is going to be surprised that I tore them but no one is going to be happy either. Miraculously as I checked the rough pants I had on, which felt like a sack you would keep potatoes or rice in, I only had the one cut, and yes I cut my leg too. It was bleeding and would be fine, I had hoped. My long blouse like shirt was stained and would be a pain to get clean, ah well, it is what it is.
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That’s actually as far as I feel like going with that. I don’t like how long it was compared to how much was actually said. I could amount eighteen minutes of writing to “Some dude fell and complained about it.” Ah well.
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There’s a skull on a wall that stares at me. I’m not sure where it comes from but momma says it won’t hurt me. She’s never seen it though. I see it at night, I don’t know where it comes from but when all the lights are off, I sleep like I am told to, I’m a good boy. I wake up every night at some point and see a skull. It doesn’t have skin on it but it has eyes looking down on me. It has teeth too, It’s above my dresser looking at me, I imagine it smiles.
I roll around and it watches me, I can feel it watching me, sometimes a car drives by and the window gets an extra burst of light from the vehicles headlights. I see it more. I want to cry at those times because I think it’s going to say something and I wonder what it sounds like? It doesn’t though. It just stares at me that dastardly skull on the wall looks up at me from atop the dresser and continues to do so. It doesn’t look unblemished. The skull isn’t white like Mrs. Folwt’s dummy one on the class. It’s got brown stains and a big crack on its cheek.
The skull on the wall stares at me and I want to sleep. I can’t because I think it’ll grow a body and take me like it took me brother. He was a wee baby but he left one day and daddy left soon. He told me he’d always love me. He held me close.
The skull laughed tonight.
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Thanks for reading - :-)
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