creep pasta salad

I am a bird

"I am a bird."

"I am a bird."

"I am a fucking bird."

"Believe it, God damn you all to hell. Damn you all to hell. Damn you, fuck you, damn you!"

The man hurtled toward the precipice, his legs moving rapidly like the wheels of a runaway train.  His speed increased.  Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, one hundred seventy-three miles per hour.  His arms flailed, wielding knives as he beheaded the bewildered spectators.  He zoomed off the edge of the precipice, reaching terminal velocity.  

Splat.

The gray rocks were splattered with red, the heads of the victims rolling slowly towards the precipice.

I thrashed at the padded walls surrounding me, my legs moving as if pedaling an invisible bicycle.  A man wearing a red lab coat entered my cell, wielding a needle. The needle penetrated the skin, while the vile fluid drifted me into the world of the subconscious.  The man in the red lab coat doused the padded prison in gasoline and threw the burning match into the cell.

I cannot fly, but I sure can burn.

Again, I awaken and climb the precipice.  Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, one hundred seventy-three times.  I jump and reach terminal velocity. I spew my guts on the rocks below. I always end up in the same place; the padded cell.  

I cannot fly, but I sure can burn.

I cannot fly, but I sure can burn.

I cannot fly, but I sure can burn.