I swore up and down I would never view the footage. Years laid on the dust of the attic where it was kept and I still wonder if I should have....
What time is it? A quarter past 2 am. I pulled the film out from beneath my recliner. Rolled my thumbs over it ritually... A coffee stain soiled its cover and I knew it was mine.
All the years I've kept secret. No one would understand and the world would never handle such a tragedy. It'd be like War of Worlds all over again.
I slipped the film into its socket, flicked on the projector. An old man I had become. The soft buzz ignited my senses and I gently rolled the handle of the film that would be a catastrophe.
YOU ARE READING
No Strings
PoetryDark, chilling short stories and poetry... some inspired by dreams Picture is of the recently discovered frog Mature Content Due To: Mister Tom and the Truth has adult themes. If you're 14+ I suppose it's okay to read; there is no graphic sex, gore...
