Undertale Shit

I'm really sorry

This isn't Undertale related at all but I wrote stuff for my English class that was required and I thought you guys might want to read my stupidity---mypoorenglishteacher

So here I guess---

"Describe the dryer or the washer from one of your sock's point of view."

Two days. It's been two days and still no sign of movement other than the dank pounding of more fallen clothing being tossed into what the humans call a 'washing machine'. It's more of a torture device. Leftie stopped responding, I think he's buried underneath the mounds of dead corpses, probably dead himself. What's this? The strange hatch opened once more, could this be the resistance coming to save us? Alas, my hopes were a bit too high as more damp weight was added. The hatch was slammed shut, the sound of something turning could be heard.

"Kid, hold on." Jeans muttered, he was the strongest of all of those left alive down here. He clung to the sides of the walls with his dark, denim fabric, bracing for something I wasn't sure was to happen. Then slowly, yet jutted, the machine started moving.

"We're all gonna die!" A t-shirt screamed, instantly panicking.

"It's inevitable..." Another t-shirt, one of the band genre muttered, letting go of the side of the machine, getting swept away by a gush of water and the violent jutting motion from the large gear in the center. The t-shirt now clung to the gear, swishing around with it, no longer making sounds.

I couldn't watch, burying myself into the walls, getting soaked with the gushing water, suds forming around me. This was the end, there was no escaping it; we were drowning and there was nothing we could do.

Then everything was black. No sound. No light. Only nothingness. Then, the hatch was reopenned, the sound of humming could be heard. Joyful humming. How sadistic. What kind of freak would be enjoying our pain like this? Apparently one in a pink dress. Heap after heap the piles of dead corpses were dragged out of the machine, seeing the light once more before getting tossed into another machine that was close by.

Those still consious, still breathing muttered to themselves "no more" "how much more do we have to live through?" none of us were sure. Whatever was coming next, might just be the end for those left, if they were strong enough.

There's still no sign of Leftie. I'm starting to think there won't ever be sign of him again, he's gone for good. As the thoughts crossed my mind the pile I was on was flung into the machine, hitting the wall in the back.

Everyone was in now, clumped together in a soaking pile of death and sadness. Some clothing had started holding onto each other, wanting to spend their last living moments with something else that was living, hoping deep in their hearts that they'd somehow live through this to see their family in the closet once more.

"I'm not dying in here!" A sweatshirt blurted out, "I came out of the closet once, and gosh darn me to heck if I'm going to get back there!"

"Yeah!" another unidentified fabric shouted back unsurely.

This positivity, this hope. It was reassuring. If these few men were able to reassure themselves of life so easily, maybe there was a chance we'd make it out of here. Just a chance.

The machine started up, heat burning its way to all of us. At first it was nice, then it started scorching. We were tossed around like a salad, hitting each other and the sides of the strange machine. Nobody knew what was happening, everyone being knocked out left and right. I soon came after.