A Haunting

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is about being a prisoner in your own mind, letting the mind take over by letting the past eat you whole, never living in the present and eventually it becomes to late and there is no future all one ends up having is the past.

Love can be a many splendid thing some would say...Like the only piece of heaven on earth, with a feeling of contentment,

satisfaction and warmth, a blanket wrapped around your heart and soul, something you knew would never leave....like Christmas morning.

Then there are others where that love has been taken away, shattered, turning the only real love they knew into a murderer...killing pieces

of the mind and soul, creating the most vivid nightmare, the most keen sickness, and the most irreplaceable, tangible, death of a haunting.

I saw that bottle, about the 20th one I've seen...half full, the taste so real, bubbly, as it kinda tingles on my tongue

as I gulp the last fill, I wish it could give me everything. My mind so numb...awww I love this feeling I can sit here for days, for days go by like hours

turning into mintues sitting with my bottles, I can pretend this is living, I do it so well.

I can feel the coldness of winter sitting in front of this fireplace with this fire the only actual warmth I'll get, as he giggles to himself, with my only brown recliner that I had for twenty years, the only thingI know will hold me tight

anytime I want it to, along with her, my bottles, cold and moist as I taste her, there is no fear. The smell of this cabin almost reminds

me of Christmas morning, what I remembered to be warmth, looking at all these red bricks, I layed them all.

I just want to forget...forget! forget!

Where's my bottle! where is she!...awww there she is, gulp, gulp she sooo pretty, now this is my christmas gift, laughing out loud.

Why does it hurt so bad when it turns cold, why can't I forget what it was like to feel so warm, what it was like to be seen...

what it was like to have something. I have nothing, nothing! except these brick walls with bottles for company, I don't have nothing.

I do remember what it was like to have something, o yes I do...gulp...gulp...I remember what it was like to matter...gulp...gulp

Aaaaaahhhhhhhh, I need a bottle, I need another bottle, where is she, where...is she!!! Awww there you are, my bottle...can never let you go,

such a nice bottle...gulp...gulp.

You know what else I remember...what it was like when she looked at me, and I don't mean my bottle...she would look at me like I was the

most amazing thing she had ever seen...just looking, you know...straight fucking into me...gulp...gulp, I remember, I remember she could see

everything. Why does it hurt so bad when people just don't fucking see, no one cares anymore, they don't care anymore, so wrapped up in their jealousies....

why am I being pulled under...sinking and sinking....and I just can't breathe, I can't breathe...gulp...gulp...I don't want to.

The twenty-fifth bottle...gulp..gulp, as I fall to my knees...PLEASE STOP! JUST STOP! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!

THIS ISN'T FAIR!! YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!!!, O God, o God....he falls from his knees to the floor frozen in translation,I'm just a man, he whispers...

I'm just a man, I'm just man, I'm just man...a man, as he is shaking, his eyes are widening and the world that he had been living in, in his mind for so many years has now surrounded him,there are no red bricks,

but biege walls, he is not in a cabin, but in a house decorated in different color lights.He is not on a floor, but in his bedroom of biege walls and spider man posters with a ceiling filled with glowing sticky stars, he lays in his twin-sized bed, six years old again with his favorite spider man blankets, a present, just

one, that his father let him open that night. He can smell the aroma of the living room while his door is slighty cracked, it's the smell of Christmas, homemade chocolate chip oatmeal cookies mixed with the pine smell of the Christmas tree. He is so excited he can't sleep, tossing and turning, wondering if santa ate his cookies as he glares at his door trying to hear him.The tangible essence of happiness and contentment that

Christmas has finally come, that he gets to get up feeling satisfied with warmth capturing him and refusing to let go as he makes his way to the tree. He finally has completely surrendered to a world that has saved him and that has killed him all at once.

He curled up in the puddle of his tears in front of the fireplace in his cabin with his brown recliner behind him

and his stacked up bottles right next to him. He lays there lost and found, dead and alive, while a bottle is glued to his hand, and all he can do is whisper...

I'm just a man, I'm just a man.......just a man.


Submitted: March 22, 2011

© Copyright 2022 JusticeJames. All rights reserved.

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