Madman
Lying on the cold, dusty floor of the cabin dazed, his blood, drenched t-shirt clung to him. He asks himself, "Where am I? What have I done?" but he cannot remember anything. Frantically searching the darkened room he notices a light shining from under a door, growing brighter as he crawls closer, his fear growing stronger as he approaches. Using the doorknob to pull himself up, he inches inside, at first he is blinded by the light. His eyes begin to focus and he sees them lying there. Dismembered bodies? Couldn't be...not again. Voices. Where are they coming from? He can't decide. "The knife!" they scream inside his mind. "Where did you put the knife!" He squeezes his head like a vise, trying desperately to make the voices disappear, but he cannot hide from who he is... a madman must kill again. Written August 24th, 2001 © on Aug 24 2001 07:26 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Lying on the cold, dusty floor of the cabin dazed,..."