Crimson Lake

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I really hate doing these. small story about a boy committing suicide

Submitted: May 08, 2014

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Submitted: May 08, 2014

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It was a slow bleeding cut, one of the ones that gush at their own pace. Thing is, enough of these slow bleeders and a glistening red pool begins to pool faster and faster at my feel. Junkies have never tried this. The rush is... indescribable. This is better than any hallucinogen, better than any kind of drug you could find. The light headedness, the silence, it was poetic. And the blood, oh the blood. The crimson blood, gleaming with a reflective stillness. Before he had lost feeling in his limbs, he could make minor motions that caused mesmerizing movements through the pool, mimicking a warm colored sunset reflecting off of a lake caught in a small bit of wind, so that the waves curled into each other where they met and died away as they reached the shore. It was calming seeing these waves reverberate to and fro around his feet. Even now, as he reached unconsciousness while lying where he collapsed on the floor, the blood looked so beautiful, so serene. And so as he slipped away into the unknown, he felt no fear, no remorse, and no regret. He felt as calm as the blood that pooled around him, as calm as a lake on a day where the sun shined bright and a light breeze pushed water into small crests, which in turn rolled toward the far off shore, reaching and fumbling for unobtainable paradise....


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