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Face down in the sodden leaves of a dark wood . . . that's where I ended up. How the hell did I get there?
In the days since that night, some memories have returned. My dreams have been filled with red-stained snapshots — lightning strikes of choking recollection.
I remember being at the party. Sarah was there, looking spectacular in that red dress. As the alcohol fogged my mind and the music chiselled my ribcage, I remember her luscious lips moving closer and closer to mine . . . but then everything goes dark, as if a sinister dusk fell on my life.
Even the Moon that night was rusty red, and only one star could be seen in the black sky. Probably Venus . . . not a star but a planet — the Goddess of Love burning bright.
And that red dress, Sarah's dress, it keeps rising to the surface of my mind as if floating and bobbing on choppy waters.
And the blood on my clothes . . . where did that come from? I wasn't hurt. I wasn't bleeding.
They tell me they've found a knife in the woods, with my fingerprints all over it. But there must be some kind of mistake. I never carry a knife.
And the other day some sickos called me an “animal” as the Police took me in for questioning. God, some people. I knew Sarah, that's all. It's just routine, you idiots! The coppers know damn well I didn't do nothin’. I'm just helping them with their inquiries.
Poor Sarah, who could have done such a terrible thing? They tell me they fished her naked body out of the canal this morning. Christ, how did it happen? That girl was mine. I had her eating out the palm of my hand that night.
Some saggy-eyed goon even had the nerve to tell me that I was wearing Sarah's dress when they found me in the woods. I mean, for God's sake! Me, wearing a bloody dress! Why the hell would I do that?! I'm a big boy now not a big girl!
And they even tell me that Sarah's dress was white . . . BLOODY WHITE! What the f..k are they on about?! I distinctly remember it being red! Don't they know that white is too pure a colour for that two-faced little teaser!!
Anyway, I guess I'll be getting out of here soon. They read me some kind of statement and told me that a solicitor is coming to talk to me. He must be the guy who's driving me home . . .
In the days since that night, some memories have returned. My dreams have been filled with red-stained snapshots — lightning strikes of choking recollection.
I remember being at the party. Sarah was there, looking spectacular in that red dress. As the alcohol fogged my mind and the music chiselled my ribcage, I remember her luscious lips moving closer and closer to mine . . . but then everything goes dark, as if a sinister dusk fell on my life.
Even the Moon that night was rusty red, and only one star could be seen in the black sky. Probably Venus . . . not a star but a planet — the Goddess of Love burning bright.
And that red dress, Sarah's dress, it keeps rising to the surface of my mind as if floating and bobbing on choppy waters.
And the blood on my clothes . . . where did that come from? I wasn't hurt. I wasn't bleeding.
They tell me they've found a knife in the woods, with my fingerprints all over it. But there must be some kind of mistake. I never carry a knife.
And the other day some sickos called me an “animal” as the Police took me in for questioning. God, some people. I knew Sarah, that's all. It's just routine, you idiots! The coppers know damn well I didn't do nothin’. I'm just helping them with their inquiries.
Poor Sarah, who could have done such a terrible thing? They tell me they fished her naked body out of the canal this morning. Christ, how did it happen? That girl was mine. I had her eating out the palm of my hand that night.
Some saggy-eyed goon even had the nerve to tell me that I was wearing Sarah's dress when they found me in the woods. I mean, for God's sake! Me, wearing a bloody dress! Why the hell would I do that?! I'm a big boy now not a big girl!
And they even tell me that Sarah's dress was white . . . BLOODY WHITE! What the f..k are they on about?! I distinctly remember it being red! Don't they know that white is too pure a colour for that two-faced little teaser!!
Anyway, I guess I'll be getting out of here soon. They read me some kind of statement and told me that a solicitor is coming to talk to me. He must be the guy who's driving me home . . .
Music never chiselled *my* ribcage.
Oh...Murderer!11
Oh...Murderer!11
This is familiar. Either I slipped up and read this ahead of the deadline - something which I tried to avoid - or you've already posted it somewhere.
Either way I liked the insanity of it all.
Either way I liked the insanity of it all.
Pretty good, though less than usual.
Not as good as some of your previous stuff, in my opinion.
Completely different to your usual self-bickering peices.
Had some lovely lines,
"As the alcohol fogged my mind and the music chiselled my ribcage"
That for instance I really liked.
I did like it, but for me it just seemed to jump around a little.
Good as usual, although I don't see it wining, which after the first few paragraphs I thought it might. So perhaps it drifted a little in the the middle and end for me.
Had some lovely lines,
"As the alcohol fogged my mind and the music chiselled my ribcage"
That for instance I really liked.
I did like it, but for me it just seemed to jump around a little.
Good as usual, although I don't see it wining, which after the first few paragraphs I thought it might. So perhaps it drifted a little in the the middle and end for me.
Face down in the sodden leaves of a dark wood . . . that's where I ended up. How the hell did I get there?
In the days since that night, some memories have returned. My dreams have been filled with red-stained snapshots — lightning strikes of choking recollection.
I remember being at the party. Sarah was there, looking spectacular in that red dress. As the alcohol fogged my mind and the music chiselled my ribcage, I remember her luscious lips moving closer and closer to mine . . . but then everything goes dark, as if a sinister dusk fell on my life.
Even the Moon that night was rusty red, and only one star could be seen in the black sky. Probably Venus . . . not a star but a planet — the Goddess of Love burning bright.
And that red dress, Sarah's dress, it keeps rising to the surface of my mind as if floating and bobbing on choppy waters.
And the blood on my clothes . . . where did that come from? I wasn't hurt. I wasn't bleeding.
They tell me they've found a knife in the woods, with my fingerprints all over it. But there must be some kind of mistake. I never carry a knife.
And the other day some sickos called me an “animal” as the Police took me in for questioning. God, some people. I knew Sarah, that's all. It's just routine, you idiots! The coppers know damn well I didn't do nothin’. I'm just helping them with their inquiries.
Poor Sarah, who could have done such a terrible thing? They tell me they fished her naked body out of the canal this morning. Christ, how did it happen? That girl was mine. I had her eating out the palm of my hand that night.
Some saggy-eyed goon even had the nerve to tell me that I was wearing Sarah's dress when they found me in the woods. I mean, for God's sake! Me, wearing a bloody dress! Why the hell would I do that?! I'm a big boy now not a big girl!
And they even tell me that Sarah's dress was white . . . BLOODY WHITE! What the f..k are they on about?! I distinctly remember it being red! Don't they know that white is too pure a colour for that two-faced little teaser!!
Anyway, I guess I'll be getting out of here soon. They read me some kind of statement and told me that a solicitor is coming to talk to me. He must be the guy who's driving me home . . .
In the days since that night, some memories have returned. My dreams have been filled with red-stained snapshots — lightning strikes of choking recollection.
I remember being at the party. Sarah was there, looking spectacular in that red dress. As the alcohol fogged my mind and the music chiselled my ribcage, I remember her luscious lips moving closer and closer to mine . . . but then everything goes dark, as if a sinister dusk fell on my life.
Even the Moon that night was rusty red, and only one star could be seen in the black sky. Probably Venus . . . not a star but a planet — the Goddess of Love burning bright.
And that red dress, Sarah's dress, it keeps rising to the surface of my mind as if floating and bobbing on choppy waters.
And the blood on my clothes . . . where did that come from? I wasn't hurt. I wasn't bleeding.
They tell me they've found a knife in the woods, with my fingerprints all over it. But there must be some kind of mistake. I never carry a knife.
And the other day some sickos called me an “animal” as the Police took me in for questioning. God, some people. I knew Sarah, that's all. It's just routine, you idiots! The coppers know damn well I didn't do nothin’. I'm just helping them with their inquiries.
Poor Sarah, who could have done such a terrible thing? They tell me they fished her naked body out of the canal this morning. Christ, how did it happen? That girl was mine. I had her eating out the palm of my hand that night.
Some saggy-eyed goon even had the nerve to tell me that I was wearing Sarah's dress when they found me in the woods. I mean, for God's sake! Me, wearing a bloody dress! Why the hell would I do that?! I'm a big boy now not a big girl!
And they even tell me that Sarah's dress was white . . . BLOODY WHITE! What the f..k are they on about?! I distinctly remember it being red! Don't they know that white is too pure a colour for that two-faced little teaser!!
Anyway, I guess I'll be getting out of here soon. They read me some kind of statement and told me that a solicitor is coming to talk to me. He must be the guy who's driving me home . . .