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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
And where off! Airport,lobby,ect.

Submitted: February 10, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 10, 2008



She screamed, “Aiiihiaahaai,” and that was the one that started it all. Man what a mess, massacred, blood spitting out in to all directions; split, spit, splat. What once was is now is and went all too quick. Those ceiling fans; smiling, laughing as if they too are getting a thrill out of it all; looking down on to the people slipping in the blood, heads tilted down, trying not to give a thought in full of the blood shed and keeping their sights down from off those blades still splitting a stream of blood from off.
That one there; he looks as if he must be enjoying this or something. No, he’s just laughing, laughing in tears; hysteria. That blood pouring in thru his two thousand dollar suit, looking down on to his flesh covered leather shoe as it stamps a mashed print down on to his gut smothered hat. The two standing next to him, the women on his left gripping a slime covered hold on to her neck hung crucifix as the man to his right looks up in to the ceiling, his eyes gleaming a shimmer of dark as the blood sets paste in around those cooling death forbidden blades of that fan.
A crowd would be expected, people to be filling in on both sides, all around this blood charade. Yet they all walk on, clicking those heels, heads stared in to direction and they walk on from in under those clean wind-crisping fans that spin from above them.
The screams went on and go on; Someone’s turned out the lights, cut the electrical system off and leaving this landing strip in under the darkness of night. A smoker stands out side; his cigarette waving around, cutting a stream of burning smoke in to the wind from in the front doors, banging and pouncing on to the window. He is locked out; the electrical circuit must have set the security lock down.
Calmness and all of its senses, not a word is said from in this darkened whole that has seemed to swallow this private landing/loading flight zone whole. Only a slight squeak from in under that blood-splitting fan. Someone must be slipping away, sliding out from in that fleshed smothered surface of floor.
The bang startles up half of the women in here, the echo rushed in thru the lobby like the blood that was released and shed from off those fan blades. He bangs again, strikes a match and those eyes fire in on us from in the outside of that window. It’s not me, I’m with you. Is all that could be read from in that flame lighting up a signal call for help from in that helpless man. Not a word is said, foot stepped. The only being, a means for life is him as that flame begins to grow weak.
With no one responding to his first call, his plead for help and a support for comfort. He lights up another match, fires a cigarette up in to his mouth, and pulls back on a puff with no worry or concern for if he was now alone. Another bang, the window shock, sparks sizzled from off the end of the cigarette and his grunt seemed to press in thru the glass and shiver its way in thru the legs of whimpering women from in the lobby.
The cigarette gazed, his eyes rolling down along it. He looks in as if he knows were all looking right back, that red burning smoke lifting up in to his gleaming eyes then turning a wisp from in the wind that sucked it in from above his head. The rumbles that began to stir seemed to have no effect on him or us inside. He seemed to be the only thing worth breathing for or towards until those lights hit in to him from behind, in thru on to us and leaving us with only the blood-covered floor that spreads a spill up in to splattered ceiling. A sign of shock, a scream, cry for help would have been in question from in the inside yet it was left to the expressions on the mans face as he looked in, down and was forced to turn away from in the scene. A turn that once again has left this small port in a death-defying scream; A taunt that was spelled in thru the glass window and in to the back of that mans head as he stood there and lead way in to those spin slicing propellers of that blind eyed on coming plane.

No explanations were explained or offered. The mess from in the inside was well left in the wind. As for the clear breeze that blew in on us from the out side, that too was lead in to the wind.

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