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giraffe

iwillbelive in musingsofamind

Crack

Hi,
Anyone mind taking a look at this?
Is it any good? Does it make sense?
It's called 'Crack' and that is about all I can say about it...


Word count: 348
Title: Crack
Genre: Doesn't really have one. Psychedelic more than anything.
Warnings/Rating:PG - I think.


[Crack. The sound of bone snapping. Roaring though her ears like wind on a dark night]Crack. The sound of bones snapping. Roaring through her ears like wind on a dark night.
Squeezing her eyes tightly she concentrates on shutting out the screams of primal terror echoing from in front, behind and around her. She is the eye of the storm in a nightmare world. An entity of war, destruction and carnage, such things as could and should only exist in the deepest reaches of dreams, the things you wake still running from.
If this were a dream, she could open her eyes and all the things remaining would only be the bitter taste of half-remembered, unreal memories. But if she is to open her eyes the silence will engulf her, deafen her for the last time. The screaming she can handle because she is bigger than it, almost like she is controlling it, not it her. But the silence of the unknown she knows will shatter the last of her mind. Because silence is louder than anything else.
Then it hits her, like a wave coming in roles, swirling shifting like a relentless mist as it passes around her. And it isn't the decadent stench of rotting flesh that terrifies her. It is repulsive but she can’t relate to it so she is safe from it, it can’t encroach on her mind. It is those things that lure her, draw her into the mist and the mist to her, it is these that terrify her. The smells of childhood, all with memories attached. The iron tang of fresh blood, she can taste it on her tongue now as well, resonating, attacking, overpowering her senses. The smell of age, damp and musty. The smell of detergents, starched and clean, sharp and crisp. Smells that intrude, press in on her, wipe her mind clean, like slate. White walls, like a hospital, everywhere, surrounding, preventing anything from getting in or out. Voices, past present and future buzzing around her. She is spinning. Rather, her thoughts are spinning, swarming like bees drawing closer, louder, round and round, spiraling upward, inward. Out of control.
She opens her eyes.


Ok, that it. What do you think? I have started to continue it but... :/

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January 2013

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