the internal struggle

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
john brown was a normal man, or so he thought anyway. one day while he was home alone he encounterd something that made him question weather he should even be alive or not, since then he has never been the same

Submitted: July 15, 2012

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Submitted: July 15, 2012

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sitting alone in his home, John could only help but wounder behind the last drops of his bottle of scoch, what meaning was there in his life. His life was a wreck, he had left his wife, and his daughter, he works a dead end job at a construction company that seemed to be running itself into the ground. But to him it did not matter for he was pondering the thought of suicide, how sweet it would be to leave it all behind, and let the world forget about him just as he had forgoten about it. taking in as much as he could, John tilted his head back and downed the last of the scoch and hit his head against the table in the kitchen where he was residing, only to fall into a deep nighmare that told him he needed to change. the nightmare was pitch black and a there was a single small spot of light off in the distance. as it went on the light became progressingly closer every passing moment, and whent he looked hard enough he thought he saw a shape, a figure in the dark. he turned to look around him to see if anything else was in this pitch black room that he begain to believe was his entire life so far. he turned back to face the figure he saw to come face to face with it standing inches from his face, he was starttled and fell to the ground, but when he fell he didnt stop falling, or he may have just been laying on air, he did not feel a solid ground under him. the figure hoverd right above him in his face and he saw it clearly now, a skelton that reeked of dead flesh, spots of skin clinging to witherd and yellow aged bones. only the things face was showing, he was clothed in a dark robe, with a slight redish tint to it. John knew well what it was when he saw the silver metal hanging at its side, a syth, death had found him, but didnt take him. at that moment he awoke to the screaming of the alarm in his pocket. he pulled his phone out and turned it off with anoyance, a bit of which from a hangover and the other he had to go to work that day. he pulled himself from the chair in the kitchen and went down the hallway to the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to see a almost witherd man. black short hair, frayed and tusseld, dark bags under his otherwise beautiful blue tinted eyes, and a puke stained white T-shirt with ragedy jeans. he left the bathroom and enterd his bedroom right across from the bathroom on the other side of the hallway, he looked at his still neat and made up bed, the off to the left to his closet and started toward it. he swung open the double doors to the dim lighted closet and plucked of the hanger a pair of slacks, a light sky blue vertical striped shirt, and a dimond patterned tie. he took them over to the bathroom and layed them on the sink counter,  preparing his shower at the same time.


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