It had moved.
We had the same messy, dyed brown hair, the same gray-blue eyes and the same freckled face. There was the scar on my upper lip from the thing I had loved most in the world; along with the other tiny scar above my right eye from another dog and another foolish action. My eyes held silent terror and I couldn't find the courage to move.
I had on my black hoodie with a snarling lion on it and a pair of black leggings. My hoodie was slightly too big on my thin frame and contained a few loose hairs from my thick, full head of hair. My pants weren't anything special; they were a regular pair of pitch black leggings. But my clothes couldn't mask the fearful trembles going throughout my form.
I stood in my bathroom. The floor was stone tiled and that same decor pushed itself halfway up the wall, abruptly breaking off into a pale green paint. The stainless steel sink sat on a granite countertop which rested on wooden cabinets and above the sink was my demise staring back at me.
I smiled, slept, ate and drank every time it did. We were the puppet and the master, but at the same time, we were one in the same. We both were controlled by each other’s impulses and were always pulled in different directions. There was a thin line that we walked, a tightrope if you will, but something had went wrong.
It had moved, but I had not and that, was final mistake I would ever make.
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Short Stories
Short StoryI have found that I like writing gruesome and gory stories and I wanted to share them with you. My stories will make you think and my stories won't be for everyone, so read at your own risk... of nightmares, that is. I dont own any of the pictures I...
