" Queeto... Queeto... Que-" My eyes drooped hidden behind my heavy eyelids. All I could see was a blur. Sweat dripped down the bridge of my nose trickling from my brow. The sweet taste entered my mouth, wanting to spit the disgusting liquid from my mouth, but I had no energy to do so. My back was pressed against a hard, cold surface. A shock of pain trembled up my spine. It ached, causing a horrifying discomfort. My thick, mangy, black hair was plastered to my scalp and forehead from the thick, sticky fluid. So much sweat. The sound of the whistling wind echoed in my ears, pounding, and penetrating my drums deafening me until I heard nothing more than the breeze. My fingers tingled, I tried to move them, but they did not budge. The smell of rotting flesh devoured my nostrils, stealing my sense, making my stomach vibrate with anger, and confusion. My palms were sweaty and boiling from an unknown source of heat. All I could see between my shaken half opened lids was darkness. No light illuminated the room. No breath consumed the room (not even my own). No voice within my ear, except my own within my head. No life at all. Where am I?
YOU ARE READING
Queeto Zaynx
ParanormalRelax. Breathe. Focus. Secrets. When told are no longer kept your own. ...The sweet smell of men consumed the room. Reaching for the light switch was difficult as the darkness swallowed up my soul. "Don't turn the light on, do not illuminate the r...
