Red is what I see, the deep crimson, it flows like water from a river, it soaks my hands the smell, like fresh copper pinnies. I don't try to stop it, no I watch with excitement, it feels slipper in-between my fingers, warm at first, but now it's getting cold. It drips down, adding a splash of color on the white floor. I enjoy the change in color, the feeling of it on my hands, but sadly all good things must come to an end, my vision is getting dark, my body feeling lighter. I bid farewell to the white room as my world goes dark, no more suffering.
YOU ARE READING
Tales from the dark and twisted grave
Horrorall things dark, scary, and mistafing. hold tight and dont scream.
