1- I’ll start adding the sentences onto this submission as it progresses
This is the OG sentence --So I suppose it must be funny to watch something this peculiarly grotesque as a normal human, wandering home from work, beat and tired as the blood pooling on the floor like melted cherry ice cream stops you in your tracks and draws a scream of terror and awe from your sore throat, until you suddenly stop, cocking your head to the side in morbid curiosity.--
So I suppose it must be funny to watch something this peculiarly grotesque as a normal human, wandering home from work, beat and tired as the blood pooling on the floor like melted cherry ice cream stops you in your tracks and draws a scream of terror and awe from your sore throat, until you suddenly stop, cocking your head to the side in morbid curiosity.
You thought today would be peaceful, and it turned out today seems like it will be a disaster as you figure out which room this blood is pooling from. Stepping to avoid the flow you follow its sanguine trail to the door at the end of the hall from which you can hear the sounds of crying. Wails of pain tearing through the hallway and hitting the furniture, a distraction in the solemnity and the only sound that doesn’t soothe but terrorizes and yet.. yet the shrill scream of teary words continue- like a stream that just discovered that it is free to flow.
The shriek doesn’t hurt my ears but it wants me to join like a siren swimming in the sea. My feet move with a mind of their own and the rest of my body resists, but a push comes behind like a branding rod searing into my spine. I’m in the room, surrounded by my memory, feeling a whisper of cold steel cutting into my skin, seeing the blood drip down, onto the ropes that bind me, and feeling the tear that rolls down my face in a small river. I know this place, only from a memory so buried in my subconscious that it became a box of ashes on a long-forgotten shelf.
The ivory plaster walls, scarred with the tiny valleys of bloody claws were now the color of a fine Bordeaux with the bouquet of something dead. Another shriek knocks you out of my nostalgic trance and your blood runs cold as you see something move out of the corner of my eye, you slowly turn your head as the lump in your throat preventing you from swallowing. I see the monster I have come to know so well staring back at me with eyes that Pierce my soul, and a heaviness that suffocates all rationality, my master of evil, my teacher of sin, the one who makes my blood boil, he summons me once again. I am consumed by agony as the ashes of memory congeal with the fresh blood and as the screams fade to supplicating whimpers I bow, then move across the room. You sit in the corner, shaking head to toe, rocking back and forth on a breaking axis of paralyzing terror and horror as you watch the scene unfolding before you.