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August 2008

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rawrbree in wchallenge

ANOTHER VENGEFUL MURDER STORY BY RAWRBREE

 Challenge #25
MORE EXPLICIT THEN CLEAN
The Kind of Dirty Where The Blood Never Cleans Off The Sheets
Bree Purdy
Horror?
Violence
I APPRECIATE FEEDBACK AND CRITICISIM!


And it’s all in the caustic, corroding feeling eating away at my stamina. The screaming voices and the blurry sight making my sight and hearing unreliable and empty. The shock and disbelief exploding from every unknown hollow of my ravaged and abandoned body. The taste of blood wearing thin on my lips and tongue.

 

            It’s all mocking me, what I’ve become and what I’m becoming is nothing but a mockery to my past tense state of my unhinged being.

 

            I don’t seem to care that it’s gone, that it is now gone further that I can ever conceive the notion of to reach, my ravaged body and mind will most defiantly not allow it. The visible blue veins screaming from under a thin layer of skin covering the bones and muscle of my arms.

 

            My past is done, my past is gone. I can still taste it, still taste him in my mouth and feel the sensation of being in his arms. The familiar tingling nerves of my bare skin against him. Bone against bone. But now it’s gone forever, since his blood has been spilled in these sheets and it will never ever wash out. Bottle after bottle of bleach will be used to wash the stains away. The stains will seemingly leave the sheets, but they will never be white again, never be pure. The white will never be pure and the blood that I spilled out of the one I loved as he ripped me to shreds will never ever come off the sheets that we used to share. I’ll see the stain on the sheets long after I have disposed of his body, long after it is gone and buried, when it should be nothing more than an after though, guilt to some.

 

            He ripped me to shreds as he told me I was nothing to him, while she was his everything, so I ripped him to shreds also. The blood was spilled with no regrets and no previous notions of the plan concerning the mutilation of the one I love. I had never planned to do this, maybe I had.

 

            So I sat there on the blood soaked bed with a mutilated corpse of an ex-lover at my side and fingered the sheets where the blood had bled through to the mattress. I sat there and wondered how I would ever get the blood out of these sheets. Out damn spot!


Comments

I agree with joeyrenee, she pretty much said everything I had wanted to say, all good critiques.

My only additions is this line here "but they will never be white again, never be pure. The white will never be pure" you repeat the pure part, you don't need to do that, it makes the reader stumble.

I like the imagery you were going for here, but I must say after reading this and your last entry I worry for any lover who decides to jilt you hee hee