Blood on the Carpet

I look at my house from a distance and the the sun is peeking over the roof, it looks haunted and is definitely a "fix-er-uper"; even the gray paint on the exterior is barely even there. When I walk into my house, the door creaks like a congested frog. Even the hinges have a dents on their brass surfaces, the knob is rusty and worn. Blood has stained the carpet like a family has been brutally slaughtered by something, crimson as far as the eye can see. Hand prints of red are spontaneously orchestrated on the plain white walls. The screams of blood fill my ears, did I do this? There are guts, organs, and other body parts piled in front of the fire place and a portion of it is keeping the fire going and the smell is horrid. Gazing into the fire I feel the heat not only from the flame but from my emotions, the fury builds more than my sadness. But I don't dare go into the shadows, for the unspeakable will happen I know this because it is after all my house. I open the torn curtains as they fell to the floor then blew the dust off pictures that I could never forget. A tear falls from my eye and when it collides with the ground it sounds like a window breaking. It was getting harder and harder to breath and my heart raced like a stampede of horses within my chest. I pass out face down into the bloody carpet. Lifting my weak head from the ground was a difficult when I finally recovered from my temporary haze. I felt light-headed as my arms tried hard to keep me from falling until I could successfully stand to my feet. I turn towards the window, it was nighttime. A dark feeling crept inside like a parasite trying to control its host, its victim. It was a leech on my soul and the fear caved me into a corner; I sit down against the wall arms wrapped around my ankles and head buried in between my knees. I look up for a moment and the lights flicker like from a horror film, except I can't change the channel. Reality was tightening its grip and I was being suffocated by it, I knew it was to late to run. I bury my head again between my knees and take a deep breath not knowing if it was my last. I hear obscure sounds and calls screeching beyond the crevasse between my kneecaps, it echoed in my ear and my mind couldn't help but wonder what it was coming from. As my heart was screaming "Get the hell out of here!", but somewhere inside I knew it was no use; surviving was a figure of my imagination. Then in the midst of the chaos I fall asleep, and I never wake up.

A little girl from next door walks into the house probably curious of what was causing the uproar, maybe she even heard the tear hit the floor. But for whatever reason she entered my house, she must know you don't get out in one piece. She slowly turned the knob and called out for me as she witnessed my disgusting remains against the wall. My corpse was still in the same position almost as if it was never touched. Flies infested my eyes and my whole jawbone was exposed, ribcage was jabbed into the wall above my head and it was still containing my insides. Blood dripped slowly from the bones and some of them were broken in unimaginable angles and directions. But my heart was no where to be found.