A/N I'm experimenting with new writing styles. I think it turned out rather well. This has been laying around my computer for a while now, but I deiced that I was proud of it and wanted to show it off. So I rammed it into the Silent Hill section. Because I love Silent Hill, and Silent Hill loves me. What we have together is beautiful. Also, don't read this. Seriously, just don't. Just go. I really have no excuse for this. Though, just to note, the first two I did dream about. Oh, and the dreams are written in a hurried and incomplete way because they're dreams. I've never had one dream that was linear or logical. The last one is written in a normal style to show that the urgency to orgasm has passed.
She twitches in her sleep, muscles contracting and retracting, moaning from her erotic dreams.
A man thrusts into the hole in another man's chest and pulls out blood and pus and semen flow from the wound
Her short, round fingers clutch at white sheets with the multicolored pinstripes, bunching up the pristine material.
His wondering comes to an end he sees the bloody stretcher in the dark hallway someone has him by the waist pretty boy what are you doing here he's shoving pins all over his body he opens his mouth and saliva black and thick like oil runs out he kisses him bitter and burning
She rolls over and the old mattress heaves a groan beneath her weight. She's restless and aroused without knowing it.
She's ripping them apart blood is everywhere oh god they scream why me why me why me whyme whyme whymewhymewhyme
Her long, white toes curl beneath her callused feet.
He's still alive and yet he wants to die she has his intestines and she's wrapping them around his throat she's making a noose around his neck she's going to hang him if he doesn't bleed out first and god why aren't I dead
Saliva, thick from the dehydration of sleep runs from her open mouth as she licks her lips. It trickles down her chin, soaking the pillows beneath her head.
She has the baby's freshly detached scalp in her hands and now she holds the mother by the throat open your mouth bitch she says and she shoves it in she's choking and vomiting
Her head tosses and turns on the pillow, causing her already matted hair to become even further entangled.
One by one the hooks go in his body and he's screaming screaming for help but no one will come this realm belongs to him and pulls the hooks down separating flesh from bone
She's biting her lip now, kneading the rosy flesh between her yellowed teeth, leaving cuts and imprints she won't even bother wondering about come morning.
She's pulling his teeth out one by one and he can't move and every time he screams she laughs and she's licking the blood off her fingers in and out of her mouth andinandout like sucking a cock
She's getting so hot now, sweat sticking her to the sheets; she kicks the blankets off of her body.
He's pulling out his organs he's eating his lung right before his eyes I need that put it back pleas please putitbackplease I'm drowninginblood
Her fingers have found their way into her hair, the jagged and brittle nails scraping at her scalp like so many tiny knives.
He turns the head around so the hole in the back is visible he unzips his fly and takes out his turgid penis and shoves it shoves it shovesitshovesit into the gaping wound
Her once clean, white panties are beginning to soak through.
He's crawling weak and bloody to the young girl in the throne and with each movement his skin sloughs of and she's laughing so hardithurts
Her leg is moving back and forth, a light scraping sound is emitted as she digs it into the soft padding.
Out of every door bodies spill like so much putrefied vomit their fluids reek as he runs past he slips in a pool yellow pustulent liquid falls face first into it and the scrape of metal on metal is approaching slowly and inexorablyPAIN he has arrived
Her spine is tingling; little jolts of electricity running a million miles per second tell her that the pleasure is so good!
He's nailed to the floor she's dumping gasoline on him it burns so much a match strikes and in slow motion he sees her grinning face and it's falling falling fallingfallingfalling as it hits his skin burning so hot cantbreathturningintoash laughter laughter laughter
She's grinding her teeth together fiercely now. Just a little more torture and she can reach that place.
She's sawing through the bone rip and tear goes the blade through flesh through muscle through bone through marrow through bone through muscle through flesh the blood is draining out and he's screaming one limb left and you'll be perfect
She's thrashing widely now, panties sopping wet and sweat staining her once clean bed clothes. The room reeks of arousal.
The electricity courses through his body overpowering his brain seizing and jerking and the blinding pain spots before his eyes and for a moment it stops the smell of burning flesh and then again she throws the switch
Her hands wormed their way into her panties now, touching in all the right places.
He's in a ring of figures behind them he can see distorted creatures lurching and twitching and they're chanting rich and baritone so deep some sound like they're drowning some like a death rattle vines like veins come creeping ever so fast twist around his form ripping and finding any hole they can and they're inside now and pulling apart one organ from the other one bursts forth a gob a meat entangled in it now it covers him mouth with meat and he
Finally, she comes to her peak.
There's a grimy hand with a long, rusty nail through the palm. As the figure walks down the long, dark corridor, the nail digs into the blue and green damask wallpaper and, as it rips, a sluggish trail of blood, thick and so red it's almost black, oozes out. The inhuman figure disappears though a dark doorway into nowhere.
She never has a chance to slowly drift awake like some people do. Instead, every morning she is violently forced from repose, no matter how sweet the dreams have been. Today is no different, it seems, as her eyes pop open and she sits up, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. She buries her head in her hands, but quickly recoils at the stench. She wipes her face on the sleeve; she'd have to wash that shirt today. Over the years, she had become use to this sort of thing. It had happened ever since she had moved here when she was twelve. Some people whisper about how creepy it is here; but she happens to like it just the way it is. Just another damned day in Silent Hill.
+ I told you not to read it. And you did it anyway.