I can start a story, but it is hard to end it
Great Power is worth nothing without control. All my life I hoped to gain power, in the desperation that is I had no skills or confidence. I hoped to join an organization and be feared for being the shadow of a great person and rewarded for the only quality worth recognizing, loyalty to my superiors. I would never have dared prophesized what actually gave me power.
I remember it vividly, for it shows itself every time I close my eyes. I was a relatively young master sergeant of the United States Air force, when it happened. I was working later than usual, hoping to finish up that week’s work, when I heard a loud screeching noise. It startled me so much it almost knocked my out of my chair. It was now screeching for two seconds and resting for three. I thought that maybe someone needed help with something and I started to look around.
I looked over the whole building and found nothing, but the screeching continued. My head was starting to hurt from the volume of the sound and not to mention I should have been home by now. I decided to go back to my work station and try to finish up quickly. When I got to the computer it had a strange screen saver on it. It was of a man moving an large metal box to a window. The man got to the window and proceeded to lift the box, the screeching stopped. I thought their was no way my computer could make that much noise and I tried to get the screen saver off. The computer was stuck on screen saver and I went to unplug the computer and a burst of electricity went through me. I Woke up to that screeching sound again only this time I was stuck I the box.
I couldn’t move and I was running out of air. It seemed like hours before the box was lifted and I only knew it was a matter of time before the box would be thrown out the window. Then I could feel myself falling. The faster I fell, The more I felt somewhat out of my body until I was completely numb both physically and emotionally. Finally I hit earth, the box filled with fire and I was lifted again into the air but not for as long. The box had a bomb in it and I was suppose to die, but I couldn’t imagine why I was alive and then again in the state I was in I couldn’t say I was that curious.
I was still numb and I was now badly burned, but something compelled me to get up and get away from the being that wanted me dead. Perhaps it was nothing more than instinct. It did not mater what my motivation was but it does matter that I did know where I was. I was in Jackson, Mississippi and I was positive that I was only a few blocks away from a hospital.
I could find no hospital so I passed out at the entrance of an Inn. I had nightmares of hellish gnashing of teeth for all the time I was trapped in sleep. When I awoke I was in a dark room with wires covering most of my body. It hurt to move but I had to get at least a view of where I was. I sat up and waited for my eyes to adjust. When I could see, I didn’t see much just a bunch of equipment and empty beds.
I was struck with another kind of pain, not from what was left of my skin, but from my stomach. I could not tell whether I was hungry or thirsty but I knew that the pain of my stomach surpassed any other pain I had felt. As I tried to get up and look around some more I could hear and feel my bones shifting, my skin tearing, and my muscles stretching. It sickened me so much I vomited. Strange enough I believed I had found the cause of my stomach pains; I had found bones in my vomit. My brain could not handle this kind of stress so I blacked out. The nightmares got worse.
The laughing ghost, The iron devil, what does it matter now? The holocaust took everything from us. Why be good? Why be evil? Why not let the insanity take over. They’re all dead so now I don’t have a job anymore. The only thing left of me will be primal instinct. Soon I’ll starve long enough so that the madness will not be denied. Why did they have to leave me here? As if being undead was bad enough I now feel more human that I have in a while. By feeling human, I mean feeling only for my own petty desires and feeling so weak and easy to kill. Is that blood or sweat that is all over my hands and feet; who cares? They will not get away. They will pay for leaving me alive. And the best part is, no one can stop me. Comments