The meadow he stood on was one he could not recall. Its grass twist and turn in every direction and all he could do was step over them. The sky was pitch black, icy wind slapping across his back. Emptiness consumed him, his thoughts wandering off far into the abyss. His fists were clenched beside him, willing the blood on his hands to wash away. The sky rumbled, and a few seconds after that, the rain started to pour down on him and the body that lay before him.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, he had claimed to himself. The thoughts in his head was getting too much and all he wanted was it to stop, stop, STOP! Voices overlap his thoughts, but you did it anyways. It's all your fault that she's dead. He cups his ears with his hands, but no matter what he tried to do, the voices won't leave him alone.
The body near to his feet stared lifelessly to the skies. Its eyes were gauged out, discarded somewhere between the grass. She might have been pretty once, her lips full and red, but what remains was a hollow hole where her lips were supposed to be. Her lips were last, because the beautiful sounds she makes when she screams were absolutely delightful to hear.
One more, the voice in his head had said, the others murmured an approval and he could not do anything but obey.
YOU ARE READING
paper origami
Randoma collection of short descriptive/narrative essays that i come up with in the middle of the night. p.s. i just came up with a random title
