4Sandtrap
Truth
Date Unknown, Sun Overhead, and Heat Unbearable
The Sun's violent rays beat on me like steamed knives and Flaming Sawdust. The Etches in my skin from the torture, bleeding with the blood of my ancestors. My eyes, screaming in disgust from the dreaded thoughts. My heart burned like the burning steel of a mighty blacksmith. My soul cut apart from a childhood wiped from my mind.
I am not me anymore.
-They picked me up from my throat, choking me as they strode me into a room, covered with blood, blood of different beings, of animals and humans. Jars lined the counters, dripping in blood and maggots. Inside the Jars laid human organs, hearts, lungs, brains, kidneys, and intestines. I wanted to scream, but all that could emerge from my mouth, was puke, dark green puke.-
I cannot sleep anymore.
I've had 2 sleepless nights, I don't know how long till I die, but I hope it is soon. I cannot stop moving for my death to occur, that would just be painful. I want my death to go fast, easy, and without pain. Such as imploding in space, or having your head cut off. That would be nice, but I couldn't sever myself, I'd have to have someone else do it for me. Just to end my misery, from walking through a seemingly endless desert, is my only wish.
I cannot dream anymore.
-I saw a table, about 10 feet from where I stood. A dim, large lamp beamed onto the table. Large, leather straps ran across the length of the table, with bright metal holdings. Large spikes ran the length of each strap, as if to hold down any idiot who struggled to break free. My mouth was oozing the remnants of the drawn out puke that emerged from my mouth. The scraping feeling in my mouth grew to a point where I wanted to tear out my throat, I wanted to die. I knew what my fate was going to be, as they ripped off all my clothes, the ripped shreds that hung onto the clothing, strangling me, and ripping my dead skin.-
I am a draught soul.
What do you do when you have no hope? Do you use your spare weapon or let it fall from your eyes into the sand? Do you keep going? Do I keep going? Do I care anymore? What is wrong with me? What did I do! Fuck This! Fuck! I have a Knife! Yeah! I Do! Fucking Desert! Fucking Sand! Fucking heart! Fuck It! I Don't deserve to live anymore and no one deserves to see my life anymore. Why was I born to do this? Why me? I love you momma, I miss you now…
I Forget to Who I was.
-They were talking between each other, they spoke in much slang. I could hear "Eyes," and "Throat" and many other words. One hold a scalpel thing and the other held my notebook as he read it, after every few seconds he look at me with eyes wide. He spoke to his partner who was in my face, staring in my eye, pin pointing where he'd cut my eye. I began to cry, and the man with my notebook saw my tear. He came over and ripped a page from my book and used it to dry my eyes. The man with knife pushed him back and yells at him. They are both yelling, over me. The man with the knife they attacks the notebook man, as the notebook man blocks his arm, holding easily. He twists his arm, skin rips and the sound of crunching bone is heard. My eyes are wide. The knife man drops his knife, and the notebook man pushes his thumb into the knife man's eyes, as they pop and ooze below him.
Is there any Angel?
I made a cut on my arm. I enjoyed watching it bleed as I continued walking. The blood….I like it…I really like It…I think I'll make more cuts and bleed. Maybe someone find my blood…and then…they'll all know about me. They'll talk about me. And I'll go to hell…where all my friends are. And we'll all be happy…But I must keep walking…Keep…Walk…Bleeding…
Hate Me Please.
-The knife man is mutilated. He is not seeable. Notebook man releases my straps and smiles. As I stand up…my angel dies. His eyes are wide. This mouth is oozing blood and on the wall in front of him…it seems as if skin and organs splattered all over the walls. He falls over, and all I hear after that is the sound of footsteps. That's when I ran…as fast as I could…-
Don't Die.
Not yet…Not Yet…I can't breathe well. My lungs are dry. I have no water…I'm dying...Tomarrow I'll be gone.
I'm sorry Notebook.
I'm going to have to get rid of you.
To Whoever finds this book. I want you to bring this to America, tell them what happened. Where they happened is in my book. Get rid of those people and help the people in my village. Teach them…
How much the White Monkey's could have saved our lives if only we believed in them.
Tell my uncle I'm sorry.
Tell my friends I'm sorry.
Then get rid of this book.
I'm going to go to bed now…And dream…about Being Famous.
"This is where it All Ends back to where we started"
-TheHawksReject