RPM
Ater FireSoul
SaikaAnge"you know, I never liked that place but what can you do..."
"look, it isn't you...but I can't be around you...or them, anymore."
"I just wanted to see new things"
"hey, nice to meet you. What's your story?"
A choir of context cut sentences called froth from a paradoxical distance, getting closer and further away sporadically with little consistency. They each spilled out from the wounds of a crippled memory along with a burning sore emitting from the back of his head. Everything was cold; his mind was empty and chilled by ghosts parading as memories; his nerves felt like ice; as if they had refused to send signal out of protest - but most importantly: he was cold.
A wave folded over his back like a blanket, breaking apart against his still screaming skull, prompting him to slowly look up. Blood had painted his entire shirt and the smell of some sort of festering meat mixed with ripe spongey absorbtion of water invaded his nostrils. He would puke but he seemed to have already done so all over the shredded rock that once used to be a body below him.
"Help..."
He looked around a little after his pitiful cry. A bus peeked out, half sunken into the laked, it's body destroyed by a damp decay that already had started to take place while the window view gave a peek aat a bloody decoration of red splatters. The water was comtaminated by various parts that would require an expert on anatomy to identify "Please, help" he shouted out again as he shakily lifted himself up to look straight ahead at the forest before him. It was night and the only thing giving light was the small fire that had erupted from the back of the bus, contained due to its sunken state.
"hello!?"
He thought he saw something, a strange distortion of shapes and seizures slithering in the darkness like dancing snakes before it disappeared deeper into the shadowy care of the clustered trees.
He stood up and begun to walk forward.
"bullshit, you're always speaking bullshit. You should be in the manure business"
"This was great...you know...trip, with us"
"look, it isn't you...but I can't be around you...or them, anymore."
"I just wanted to see new things"
"hey, nice to meet you. What's your story?"
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"
A choir of context cut sentences called froth from a paradoxical distance, getting closer and further away sporadically with little consistency. They each spilled out from the wounds of a crippled memory along with a burning sore emitting from the back of his head. Everything was cold; his mind was empty and chilled by ghosts parading as memories; his nerves felt like ice; as if they had refused to send signal out of protest - but most importantly: he was cold.
A wave folded over his back like a blanket, breaking apart against his still screaming skull, prompting him to slowly look up. Blood had painted his entire shirt and the smell of some sort of festering meat mixed with ripe spongey absorbtion of water invaded his nostrils. He would puke but he seemed to have already done so all over the shredded rock that once used to be a body below him.
"Help..."
He looked around a little after his pitiful cry. A bus peeked out, half sunken into the laked, it's body destroyed by a damp decay that already had started to take place while the window view gave a peek aat a bloody decoration of red splatters. The water was comtaminated by various parts that would require an expert on anatomy to identify "Please, help" he shouted out again as he shakily lifted himself up to look straight ahead at the forest before him. It was night and the only thing giving light was the small fire that had erupted from the back of the bus, contained due to its sunken state.
"hello!?"
He thought he saw something, a strange distortion of shapes and seizures slithering in the darkness like dancing snakes before it disappeared deeper into the shadowy care of the clustered trees.
He stood up and begun to walk forward.