It's not always dreamy or dream houses in life but you make the best with what you have or destroy those around you in the process. It's not always the murder in the movie that 's frightening. Sometimes the best scary movies are the ones we make for ourselves... ever look in the mirror and realize that the only monster that exists is you. And all the people in your life are really compromised by your own hand. You don't need a picture to convey or capture your destructive tendencies but if it helps... Go ahead and take one. Here's a scary story and a picture that perfectly captures the sentiment of the tale. Don't you think... Needless to say this reminds me it's time for a little FUN...
Have a Happy Halloween!
Enjoy if you've never read this one.
Kisses, m.
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| Lindsay Lohan - Silver Screen Pool Murder Scene |
I bet you’re a screamer
(9-2-09)
I bet you’re a screamer.
Awake. Incoherent. I can’t remember how long I’ve been asleep. Where am I? It’s 4 in the afternoon. My mind isn’t clear at all. Oh god! There are bodies all around me. What happened? Did I do this?
Shouldn’t take long now. Once I’ve cut you open it’s only a matter of time before you bleed out dry. That’s my favorite part. The slow and painful anguish of death…
Vertigo. I can’t stand up without spinning. Last thing I can remember is the sound of bells. The toll of a grandfather clock and a face before it descends into darkness. No, not a face, it was a mask. Clarity. I need to get my wits about me. Thirty people are dead and there’s no reason why I’m still here.
Who let the monster out the cage?
Some are split in two halves. Others look as though a wild animal has been eating them alive. A man has no scalp and what’s left of his brain is spilling out onto the carpet. The one thing in common to the room is death. There aren’t any survivors aside from myself. I need to get a hold of my senses. I’m alive but something is wrong. I can feel it.
I want to see what color your insides are.
Standing upright. The room is shifting before my eyes. Blurry. I’m half dressed. I’m wearing a long white shirt covered in blood. Where are my pants? Shoes? There’s something stuck in my hair. Near the base of my skull. The weight of it shifts when I move. Heavier than gravity. Pulling me down. Move my hand to feel. There’s wetness. Cool hard metallic. Find the edges. Very large. Sharp. Handle. OH! Hand retracts toward scalp. A hatchet? Stuck in my skull. How? Doesn’t matter. Keep your wits.
Something that tastes so sweet shouldn’t be wasted.
Carefully I choose my steps through this mass grave. What monster could do this? Why can’t I remember? The mask is resting in front of the hall closet. Maybe someone is hiding in there? The answers are coming. My head won’t stop spinning. Movement. Shadow coming towards me. “F-F-F-UCK!” That’s no shadow. It’s a mirror. Don’t scream.
Are you afraid of the voices in your head?
Do you know what happens when you drop an anvil on someone’s face? I might have assumed that’s what was left. But that’s an exaggeration. Upon facing my doppelganger in the mirror, I almost shattered the image in shear horror. Something stopped me. Further examination proved that I wasn’t completely monstrous, just nearly. My face wasn’t flat as I’d originally thought. The left side had been skinned down to bone. Leaving the remaining muscle, nerves, and tissue exposed. My mouth and teeth caked with dry blood and pieces of hair stuck to my right chin. What’s left of my facial skin is coated blood red. Lifting the shirt to reveal my torso, I look down. From beneath my breasts and well below my hips I’m covered in bloody handprints and claw marks. Further down, my legs are covered in black bruises with traces of reddish blue. “I’ve been feeding.”
We all have options in this world. Cruelty is mine.
The voice came out of my mouth, but wasn’t mine. There are two of me now. One completely white, the other black as night. What happened? “You let me out! Stupid girl. Realize the potential of what is happening.” This is a dream. “THIS is NO DREAM!”
Wake up! “Why don’t you make yourself useful and crawl back inside. I’m not finished. Now that you’ve found me, LET ME OUT!” NO. I can’t talk to myself, or whatever this is. I’m afraid. The mask. The clock. The answers are close. “YOU CAN NOT SHUT ME OUT!”
Buried within our psyche is a darkness that endures.
Reach the end of the hall. The voice is screaming in my head. Bend down and grab the mask. I’m hearing something in the closet. This isn’t happening. Someone is in there. I have to stay in control. “Open the door so I can grab that little piggy inside! I’m still hungry.” Mask. Walk away. Examine further. I’m remembering something. Wearing the mask. Oh-oh-oh! I’m eating at someone’s neck. Animal-like. There’s blood. Sweet. Angelic. I’m missing it. NO!! In control. That’s not you.“YES! Give into it! This will be so much more fun if you go along for the ride!”
Resisting these urges becomes a battle between night and day for supreme control.
I’m so hungry. I can remember bits and pieces more readily. Not how it began, but parts of the carnage. The strength. So powerful. One by one taking them down. Tearing flesh into pieces. My frail hands covered in blood. Nails caked with flesh. Eating the fallen. Divine meal. Oh, I have to block out this feeling. “Don’t fight me! Give in.” Wait. I had the hatchet. Cutting away body parts from dead. Gutting them. Dragging out the entrails. Sweet… STOP! How did it end up in the back of my head? Shit! That’s why there’s one left. She’s hiding, trembling in fear, in the dark closet, knowing that I’m out here still. DAMN! I need to leave before… 4:58 P.M. The clock. It’s my trigger.
Twisting and Turning.
4:59 P.M. I have one minute left before... Before I turn around, walk down that hall and tear that girl in half. Almost to the front door. The first bell sounds. I can smell the perfume of blood. It’s intoxicating. The second. I’m standing at the door resisting the urge to turn around. The third. The taste is in my mouth. But I’m strong. The fourth. Hand on the knob. Turn. Open. Fifth. I bet you’re a screamer!