Title: Control
By: Misery Johnson
March 24, 2010
Darkness; always empty and alone. It always happened when she was alone. She could feel it oozing from within. Trying to escape and take control of her. Felt the hair-raising sensation of cold seeping through her skin and the numbing sensation that accompanied it. How she detested it! How she hated when the sun set and a blanket of nothingness enveloped her!
Why? You ask yourself. The reason is simple; the night is always dark. No matter how potent the light may pretend to be, it is never enough. Never strong enough to keep her safe, to ward off the shadows that threaten to swallow her whole. The darkness always remains dark. An obvious statement for most, but a confusing one for her. Why did it always have to be so dark and why was it always so quiet?
The night was silent and still. Not unusual, nothing new for her, but still unnerving. She did not like silence; she never had before. As far as she could remember, she had always been afraid of it. There had always been a sort of anxious feeling when she knew it was time to be quiet. She avoided it as much as she could, if she could.
Noise, chaos, pounding; now, those were things that she could deal with. She relished in loud sounds, raised the volume on her stereo to its max, and made sure that she was surrounded by people whenever she could. The usual person complains when they can't think, they claim that they can't 'hear themselves think', but not her. She needed noise to survive, to stay sane. When her mind was clear and she was allowed to think, her whole being was in danger.
The pencil flowed smoothly on the paper. Each stroke presented the lack of control she had at that moment over her thoughts. Every thought appeared and disappeared at will in no regards to its owners will. It always happened the same way. She never knew when she would be able to stop herself, when she would regain control over her own being. Every image that appeared in her mind was transferred onto paper through words. Each gruesome detail, each fearful gaze beautifully presented in elegant words.
'Tear-stained cheeks caressed the dark alley soil. The sound of bone against concrete resounded on the closed-in walls to be heard by none but the two. Blood flowed thickly around the small figure forming a perfect tracing of the petite frame. She could be no more than twelve, barely of age, and now never to reach her full maturity.
Shallow breaths became less frequent until not a single movement could be detected. Lifeless eyes looked at nothing. A hand lying limp to the side, as though in a final attempt to do something. What that something was would be a simple guess.
None would discover this until morning and by then it would be too late. No trace would be left to help correct this wrong. Why she was there in that alley and at that hour would never be known. The only two with that knowledge would not be inclined to inform us. One, being the girl herself and the other, her executioner.
Misery: New story after three years...finally...this week I will be finishing my old stories and editing the ones that I think need editing. I hope you all like 'em...^^ The characters are up to you...although I sort of have who they are in mind...Look back at my stories and guess who the main characters are...review