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I wish I could go back. Back to my life, back to my family, back to those feelings that make your spine shiver, that make your lip quiver, that make your mind hover. But ‘I wish’ doesn’t get you that. It doesn’t get me that, and it never will. I’m trapped now; all I can do is count the spiders as they sling their webs around my body.
I have a friend though. My only vehicle to the real world. Markopan will sit and tell me of the world, tell me of his life, read to my wasted body, lift me up. He is my only friend, and only enemy.
I remember when I first met Markopan; misery was engulfing my life, my job would drain me of my strength, then my wife would kick me when I was down, as my lonely carcass was lain out on the pavement, pitter-patter of rain hammering my skull like thoughts slowly slipping from my memory, soaking my body like a burden.
Then one day it all changed. I got home, stared in the mirror and didn’t see myself, the wreck that I normally did. I saw Markopan. Something sent from the deepest depths of hell stood in front of me, as if to mark the start of an apocalypse. For me, it was. His majestic grin would pierce my soul, his lonely eyes wondered around the room, no thought in them at all, simply there to be used, often meeting mine and the hairs on the back of my neck would shoot up. Then he, then it, spoke. It wasn’t me in the mirror, this wasn’t just an image in my head, out of his mouth, out of my mouth, he growled words at me. No longer was it my voice, I’d never heard such a sadistic sound in my life; rasping, cold air escaping, clutching my face, he spoke.
“One more boy for hire…”
My deepest fears shot forth from this beast, capturing me, rupturing the air around me, goosebumps travelling across my entire body like a stampede, my mind went cold, my heart turned to stone. So heavy, tears crashing to the ground, I curled up and my life was changed.
I felt good. I felt alive. My job didn’t suck the life from my body. No matter how much hate was built up within my body, I embraced it and felt wonderful. Whatever Markopan did, it worked. Days and days past, my heart would grow for this demon, meeting him at the mirror, feeding each other.
Then he came with me, he came into my body, he would speak to me, he would tell me what to do, and I was back to my life of misery. My wife found me in the rain once again, and had to drag my limp body in, I wasn’t there anymore, I was back to what I hated. I sat in an armchair for hours, just staring, listening to Markopan, telling me stories, telling me what to do, he pulled me out of my chair and to my feet.
As I glanced across the room I felt Markopan grin within my mind as my eyes met with the kitchen knife. He talked to me more, told me to pick it up, told me to move where he wanted. I knew I didn’t want to, but I was too weak to argue. As I travelled I saw where I was headed; my bed soon came into view, my wife’s hair spilling from the sheets like a goddess, content in her slumber, within the clouds she smiled.
So we cut her throat.
The white sheets slowly turned a deep red as insanity crept over my body. I wanted to kill myself, scream out, destroy this beast that resided within my body, but no. Despite my efforts, I kept walking, through door after door, through tear after tear, until I found my daughters room. Like her mother she was like something from heaven, happy in her resting place, her final resting.
Her head did roll, and more crimson tainted such a beautiful sight. To this day their screams still ring in my ears every second I live.
So now what is left of me? My body is gone, all I have are my thoughts, my eyes that only exist in my mind. Now all I can do is look from within the mirror, watching Markopan sit in his lonely paradise, drinking all that made him how he is, slowly meeting my insanity.
Sipping such a liquid has now destroyed us both…
I have a friend though. My only vehicle to the real world. Markopan will sit and tell me of the world, tell me of his life, read to my wasted body, lift me up. He is my only friend, and only enemy.
I remember when I first met Markopan; misery was engulfing my life, my job would drain me of my strength, then my wife would kick me when I was down, as my lonely carcass was lain out on the pavement, pitter-patter of rain hammering my skull like thoughts slowly slipping from my memory, soaking my body like a burden.
Then one day it all changed. I got home, stared in the mirror and didn’t see myself, the wreck that I normally did. I saw Markopan. Something sent from the deepest depths of hell stood in front of me, as if to mark the start of an apocalypse. For me, it was. His majestic grin would pierce my soul, his lonely eyes wondered around the room, no thought in them at all, simply there to be used, often meeting mine and the hairs on the back of my neck would shoot up. Then he, then it, spoke. It wasn’t me in the mirror, this wasn’t just an image in my head, out of his mouth, out of my mouth, he growled words at me. No longer was it my voice, I’d never heard such a sadistic sound in my life; rasping, cold air escaping, clutching my face, he spoke.
“One more boy for hire…”
My deepest fears shot forth from this beast, capturing me, rupturing the air around me, goosebumps travelling across my entire body like a stampede, my mind went cold, my heart turned to stone. So heavy, tears crashing to the ground, I curled up and my life was changed.
I felt good. I felt alive. My job didn’t suck the life from my body. No matter how much hate was built up within my body, I embraced it and felt wonderful. Whatever Markopan did, it worked. Days and days past, my heart would grow for this demon, meeting him at the mirror, feeding each other.
Then he came with me, he came into my body, he would speak to me, he would tell me what to do, and I was back to my life of misery. My wife found me in the rain once again, and had to drag my limp body in, I wasn’t there anymore, I was back to what I hated. I sat in an armchair for hours, just staring, listening to Markopan, telling me stories, telling me what to do, he pulled me out of my chair and to my feet.
As I glanced across the room I felt Markopan grin within my mind as my eyes met with the kitchen knife. He talked to me more, told me to pick it up, told me to move where he wanted. I knew I didn’t want to, but I was too weak to argue. As I travelled I saw where I was headed; my bed soon came into view, my wife’s hair spilling from the sheets like a goddess, content in her slumber, within the clouds she smiled.
So we cut her throat.
The white sheets slowly turned a deep red as insanity crept over my body. I wanted to kill myself, scream out, destroy this beast that resided within my body, but no. Despite my efforts, I kept walking, through door after door, through tear after tear, until I found my daughters room. Like her mother she was like something from heaven, happy in her resting place, her final resting.
Her head did roll, and more crimson tainted such a beautiful sight. To this day their screams still ring in my ears every second I live.
So now what is left of me? My body is gone, all I have are my thoughts, my eyes that only exist in my mind. Now all I can do is look from within the mirror, watching Markopan sit in his lonely paradise, drinking all that made him how he is, slowly meeting my insanity.
Sipping such a liquid has now destroyed us both…
I wish I could go back. Back to my life, back to my family, back to those feelings that make your spine shiver, that make your lip quiver, that make your mind hover. But ‘I wish’ doesn’t get you that. It doesn’t get me that, and it never will. I’m trapped now; all I can do is count the spiders as they sling their webs around my body.
I have a friend though. My only vehicle to the real world. Markopan will sit and tell me of the world, tell me of his life, read to my wasted body, lift me up. He is my only friend, and only enemy.
I remember when I first met Markopan; misery was engulfing my life, my job would drain me of my strength, then my wife would kick me when I was down, as my lonely carcass was lain out on the pavement, pitter-patter of rain hammering my skull like thoughts slowly slipping from my memory, soaking my body like a burden.
Then one day it all changed. I got home, stared in the mirror and didn’t see myself, the wreck that I normally did. I saw Markopan. Something sent from the deepest depths of hell stood in front of me, as if to mark the start of an apocalypse. For me, it was. His majestic grin would pierce my soul, his lonely eyes wondered around the room, no thought in them at all, simply there to be used, often meeting mine and the hairs on the back of my neck would shoot up. Then he, then it, spoke. It wasn’t me in the mirror, this wasn’t just an image in my head, out of his mouth, out of my mouth, he growled words at me. No longer was it my voice, I’d never heard such a sadistic sound in my life; rasping, cold air escaping, clutching my face, he spoke.
“One more boy for hire…”
My deepest fears shot forth from this beast, capturing me, rupturing the air around me, goosebumps travelling across my entire body like a stampede, my mind went cold, my heart turned to stone. So heavy, tears crashing to the ground, I curled up and my life was changed.
I felt good. I felt alive. My job didn’t suck the life from my body. No matter how much hate was built up within my body, I embraced it and felt wonderful. Whatever Markopan did, it worked. Days and days past, my heart would grow for this demon, meeting him at the mirror, feeding each other.
Then he came with me, he came into my body, he would speak to me, he would tell me what to do, and I was back to my life of misery. My wife found me in the rain once again, and had to drag my limp body in, I wasn’t there anymore, I was back to what I hated. I sat in an armchair for hours, just staring, listening to Markopan, telling me stories, telling me what to do, he pulled me out of my chair and to my feet.
As I glanced across the room I felt Markopan grin within my mind as my eyes met with the kitchen knife. He talked to me more, told me to pick it up, told me to move where he wanted. I knew I didn’t want to, but I was too weak to argue. As I travelled I saw where I was headed; my bed soon came into view, my wife’s hair spilling from the sheets like a goddess, content in her slumber, within the clouds she smiled.
So we cut her throat.
The white sheets slowly turned a deep red as insanity crept over my body. I wanted to kill myself, scream out, destroy this beast that resided within my body, but no. Despite my efforts, I kept walking, through door after door, through tear after tear, until I found my daughters room. Like her mother she was like something from heaven, happy in her resting place, her final resting.
Her head did roll, and more crimson tainted such a beautiful sight. To this day their screams still ring in my ears every second I live.
So now what is left of me? My body is gone, all I have are my thoughts, my eyes that only exist in my mind. Now all I can do is look from within the mirror, watching Markopan sit in his lonely paradise, drinking all that made him how he is, slowly meeting my insanity.
Sipping such a liquid has now destroyed us both…
I have a friend though. My only vehicle to the real world. Markopan will sit and tell me of the world, tell me of his life, read to my wasted body, lift me up. He is my only friend, and only enemy.
I remember when I first met Markopan; misery was engulfing my life, my job would drain me of my strength, then my wife would kick me when I was down, as my lonely carcass was lain out on the pavement, pitter-patter of rain hammering my skull like thoughts slowly slipping from my memory, soaking my body like a burden.
Then one day it all changed. I got home, stared in the mirror and didn’t see myself, the wreck that I normally did. I saw Markopan. Something sent from the deepest depths of hell stood in front of me, as if to mark the start of an apocalypse. For me, it was. His majestic grin would pierce my soul, his lonely eyes wondered around the room, no thought in them at all, simply there to be used, often meeting mine and the hairs on the back of my neck would shoot up. Then he, then it, spoke. It wasn’t me in the mirror, this wasn’t just an image in my head, out of his mouth, out of my mouth, he growled words at me. No longer was it my voice, I’d never heard such a sadistic sound in my life; rasping, cold air escaping, clutching my face, he spoke.
“One more boy for hire…”
My deepest fears shot forth from this beast, capturing me, rupturing the air around me, goosebumps travelling across my entire body like a stampede, my mind went cold, my heart turned to stone. So heavy, tears crashing to the ground, I curled up and my life was changed.
I felt good. I felt alive. My job didn’t suck the life from my body. No matter how much hate was built up within my body, I embraced it and felt wonderful. Whatever Markopan did, it worked. Days and days past, my heart would grow for this demon, meeting him at the mirror, feeding each other.
Then he came with me, he came into my body, he would speak to me, he would tell me what to do, and I was back to my life of misery. My wife found me in the rain once again, and had to drag my limp body in, I wasn’t there anymore, I was back to what I hated. I sat in an armchair for hours, just staring, listening to Markopan, telling me stories, telling me what to do, he pulled me out of my chair and to my feet.
As I glanced across the room I felt Markopan grin within my mind as my eyes met with the kitchen knife. He talked to me more, told me to pick it up, told me to move where he wanted. I knew I didn’t want to, but I was too weak to argue. As I travelled I saw where I was headed; my bed soon came into view, my wife’s hair spilling from the sheets like a goddess, content in her slumber, within the clouds she smiled.
So we cut her throat.
The white sheets slowly turned a deep red as insanity crept over my body. I wanted to kill myself, scream out, destroy this beast that resided within my body, but no. Despite my efforts, I kept walking, through door after door, through tear after tear, until I found my daughters room. Like her mother she was like something from heaven, happy in her resting place, her final resting.
Her head did roll, and more crimson tainted such a beautiful sight. To this day their screams still ring in my ears every second I live.
So now what is left of me? My body is gone, all I have are my thoughts, my eyes that only exist in my mind. Now all I can do is look from within the mirror, watching Markopan sit in his lonely paradise, drinking all that made him how he is, slowly meeting my insanity.
Sipping such a liquid has now destroyed us both…
We have a winner.
That was a brilliant last-minute entry. I enjoyed every word of that.
That was a brilliant last-minute entry. I enjoyed every word of that.
Impressive stuff, Rick. Even with such deep vocabulary it still flowed like a gem. Liked it muchly, and by far your best entry, one you earlier told me you wouldn't bother with.
And even though it probably reduces my chances of a Top 3 finish almost to bankruptcy, I'm glad you entered, as this was a great entry.
And even though it probably reduces my chances of a Top 3 finish almost to bankruptcy, I'm glad you entered, as this was a great entry.
Very good, Rickoss. How am I going to cram 7 or 8 stories into a top 3...? Maybe I should snub those horrible cocky-know-all Notables...
Black Glove wrote:
> Maybe I should snub those horrible cocky-know-all Notables...
Agreed, although unfortunately all of the notables are uber-modest, even Meka, who really shouldn't be.
> Maybe I should snub those horrible cocky-know-all Notables...
Agreed, although unfortunately all of the notables are uber-modest, even Meka, who really shouldn't be.
I must say, this entry is quite captivating and jaw-dropping toward the end...whoa. Fabulous momentum! :P
GAD winner.
Nice.
Nice.