(Hey… Many of you know me by the writer of, Snow, How Much She Suffers, and Happy Birthday. Well thanks for reading them. If you don't know me…uh…hi? Heh, well just read this. It was a story based on Slipknot's CD Volume 3 Subliminal Tracks. But as the story has gone on, the plot has drifted from the songs. So it's no longer a song fic. Hope you like…bye!)
Blood dripped from above and splashed in a small red puddle. The red liquid ran down the hardwood floor like a river of blood. Curving and turning, as it's dark deep red spread out. It dripped strait through the cracks of the wood, only to be fallowed by more.
Inferiority filled the room. Thought of being worthless, forgotten, and never to be needed traveled the mind. Thinking it would never get better. Not wanting it to get better! Just to end…forever. The point where you know your nothing. The scene changed to a scarlet carpeted room with no lights and dark curtains. Only to be shown, a darkened corner, with not a single bit of light touching the space. "I am nothing…" "I am worthless…"
"What's the point? Why tell them… They don't listen…they don't care." The scene hopped back to the woodened floored room. Tears began to drop with the blood, but was soon consumed in its red. No longer showing traces of sadness, but showing death."I'll end it all!" In the shadows of the wood room a rather large bladed knife was held before a wrist already bleeding quite rapidly. The arm with the knife held was too pouring out. The knife slashed at the wrist over and over. Fury imbedded in each blow.
Then back to the carpeted room and black corner. "It isn't obvious?" Tick Tick Tick Tick An old grandfather clock read 11:57. The rotting hardwood soaked in the wet blood. It seeped through it's holes, it's cracks, and dryness. A fireplace lit the scarlet room, with a flame bursting high and dangerous.
"Can't they see theirs something wrong?" Screams slowly grew louder, but steadily kept its volume quiet and in the background. The screams cut and back to the path of blood. The shadow showed the cutter hauling the knife down. Haunted by grief and anger, the slicer held their hands to their head squeezing. "Ahhh…" they broke down, after already done fallen apart. There wasn't much farther for the poor soul to go down to. Where do you fall to, when you've already hit rock bottom?
"I don't want them to know… They can't find out!" papers, notebooks, folders were all thrown into the fireplace. "They must never be seen!" The flames flew up higher. Papers with deep thought, blood, and tears all turned to ash.The lasted paper was finally gone. The cutter fell forward landing face first on the wooden floor, unable to hold their own self up any longer. Blood continued to gush from the sliced wrists and it fell down the old wood's cracks and holes like waterfalls now, other than as if slowly being poured.
(Yes, yes…I know it's short.)