Self-Loathing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Dark writing about a dream I had. An expression of my depression.

Submitted: November 28, 2011

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Submitted: November 28, 2011

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I just received a small silver key from a random stranger.  As he wordlessly walks away I cry out in confusion.  Not knowing what to do with the key, I slip it in my pocket and continue walking down the sidewalk as I had been doing before.  As I walk, I stare at my feet.  I find myself criticizing them.  They're too big, they turn awkwardly inward when I walk, they are far from perfection, below average even.  Because I am looking down, I don't see what's ahead.  I bump into a hard, flat, and cold surface.  Surprised, I take a step backward to examine the intruding obstruction.  I'm looking at myself.  All of my imperfections immediately stand out to me.  I don't like what I see, so I turn, to walk back the way I had come.  Again I see myself.  Imperfect.  I glance to my right and left, my reflection looks back at me; ugly, disgusting.  I'm caged in by four mirrors, forced to see nothing but myself.  Horrified, I begin searching for an escape, but there is no way out.  I try to break the glass, shoving my shoulder repeatedly into it, but it doesn't even crack.  Exhausted, I sit down, and then I notice something I hadn't seen before; a small panel on my left with a number pad and a heading that reads "To When Would You Like To Travel?" I ponder the odd question as I subconsciously take the strangers key out of my pocket and begin turning it over in my hand.  Suddenly it all makes sense.  I search for a key hole and quickly find it next to the panel.  I enter my birth date into the number pad, insert the key, and twist.  Almost immediately the mirrors disappear and I'm in a hospital looking down at a me that is only hours old.  I stare at my pudgy face, so innocent and unknowing of the horrific future lying ahead.  I pull a gun from my pocket, take aim, and pull the trigger.  I'm falling through darkness.  I hit the ground with a painful thud. I get up.  I know where I am. Towering over me are the malevolent gates of hell.  This is what I deserve.  This is where I belong.


© Copyright 2017 Wednesday Grace. All rights reserved.

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