There she was, my dead grandmother lying in her coffin, waiting to be burned. I felt incredibly anxious studying her endlessly sleeping, noting how her make-up was far better than she ever had it living. I tried to point this out, but no one would listen, insisting she was always a master at powdering. I thought it unwise to bring up her drug past in relation to this, so left the room to have a panic attack about it all somewhere else. Continue reading
100 words, seven days, then spliced together with jam.
My body aches when I wake up. My vision is blurry when I wake up. Night terrors once again. The bed sheets on the floor, my girlfriend still sound asleep, unmoving, silent breathing.
The clock on the wall said 11.36, a lazy Sunday lie in. I got out of bed, climbing over the sleeping girlfriend, and went to have a shower. I sit in the bath as the water hits my body, and I try to recall the dreams of the night before. I think there was something to do with getting repetitive strain injury while at work, or something else packed with the imagination of dreams. The water was lukewarm, and I continued to ache.
I left the shower when the water turned cold, it didn’t take long, and after a quick half assed dry with a towel, I stepped back into my bedroom and sat on the bed holding my head. My girlfriend was still asleep, I nudged her but she just bled. Blood seeping out from under her body. When I turned her over, I saw the gaping wound with her fluids draining out, keeping her silently sleeping. Sunday morning. Continue reading