Blah blah blah

[impy]

The brick of Breaking Dawn is on my kitchen table. I didn't realize that you could kill someone lifting that thing. I haven't cracked it open yet, because I know the moment I do, I'll need a pile of Excedrin and something to munch.

Also, I'll kill what little joy I have left for NaNo right there.

Weird. Last year I was excited, this year not so much. A month ago, excited. Now, not so much. Perhaps because I am wandering around aimlessly? Last year it was easy. Idiots go to haunted house. Idiots get stuck in haunted house. Idiots are seperated, idiots must find one another, get rid of the thing posessing the first idiot, and get the hell out of the house before it EATS them. Flashbacks and murder ensue. Good, good times. Except for the fact that it totally had to be padded to meet the requirements. :P Still. MURDER. Death! Haunting! Spoooooookies.




I didn’t scream, even as my vision turned to a red haze and the sickly sweet smell I’d noticed upon first entering the house came rushing back in full force.
Because I could see Jack, sitting at the table to our right, knife in hand, blood everywhere.

The scene in my head shifted and we were outside. It looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. It was late, sometime in the middle of the night, and it was entirely too quiet. I watched as a door opened and Jack stepped outside a house I knew wasn’t his own. A hiss and a quick flare of orange and I saw his face clearly as he lit a cigarette. He looked around the yard, and I suddenly realized it was Clover’s backyard before it had gone completely to hell.
“I can hear you out there,” he finally said when his cigarette was halfway gone.
For a second I thought he meant me, although I was still fairly certain I wasn’t actually… here, and then something on the far side of the lawn moved. Bushes rustled and someone emerged slowly from the shadows. They seemed shiny and slick somehow, and I wondered if they’d just been swimming, although it looked too cold for that from what I could tell.
Moonlight slowly illuminated the figure and I could see that they were definitely soaked, but what I’d first assumed was water wasn’t. It was too thick, too dark.
Blood.
I could taste the metallic tang in the back of my throat as soon as I smelled and recognized it.
An awful lot of blood to cover parts of him so thoroughly.
It clicked in my head. The yard, the blood, the hint of late winter in the air.
Clinton.
Oh shit.


Even before the blood soaked night, Clinton had never been my favorite person. He was a jerk more often than not, and while Clover still believed the best of her brother, I’d seen him tag along to some pretty fucking horrible things in high school, but seeing him like this made me rethink my opinion of him.

He seemed scared out of his mind, even more so by the fact that his best friend didn’t seem at all phased by what had prompted him to sneak into his own yard, soaked in blood that he’d all but admitted wasn’t his own.


“Jack?” Clinton asked very quietly, seemingly afraid of setting Jack off again. “What’s wrong?”
Jack pointed straight at Clinton. “I saw you. I saw what you did. Oh, Jesus, how could you? I thought you, like, hit a deer or something. How could you? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jack shook his head as if he could shake the mental images away that easily.
Clinton looked sadly at Jack. “I tried to tell you. I… I didn’t want to. It was an accident,” he said haltingly, searching for the words to make his oldest friend understand the madness burning through his mind.
“How in the hell was that an accident?” From the horror-stricken look on Jack’s face, I was more than certain that I did not need to know the details of Clinton’s earlier adventures. Jack’s face was so pale beneath the thin layer of mud that I was afraid he’d pass out.
“You don’t understand. You don’t know what… There are things, Jack. You know that. You know they talk to me. You’ve been there. Sometimes they talk to you, too, remember?” Clinton was pleading now.

I watched as a thousand bloody Clintons fell in slow motion to the floor. He leaned over and picked up a particularly large piece and clutched it so hard that his hand began to bleed. I watched as his blood dripped to the floor and then as the wood seemed to suck it in.
Fuckity fuck.



Bah. Maybe I'm just exhausted.

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[saintsavin.livejournal.com]

Hey now! YOU CAN DO IT! JUST STOP LOOKING AT BD AND ALL WILL BE BETTER XD.