Short story's by Em

Short storys

Insane, they call me. But how could I be? I'm not mad, no! I'm just a normal human, but better. Or am I even human? Anyway, how can I be mad? I'm perfectly sane, no! Not mad, p-p-perfectly s-sane. Sane as can be. See, how I can even recite what happened in this journal. It was late December, cold, you could say. The clock read 12:00am, midnight. Sleep never came, although it usually doesn't anymore, not for me at least. So instead, I sit, on the old armchair placed carefully in the middle of the empty dark, room in which they call a living room. A living room, oh why do they call it a living room, well, I do suppose I'm living, and I guess this is a room. It does make quite a bit of sense. Now, the clock perched upon the mantle place above the fire, the flames burning blue and red, read 3:00am. The time had come, the deed was to be done.