one-fifteen a.m.

at one-fifteen on saturday morning
she rolls into her
unpaved driveway
car dented, hair tangled, makeup ruined
tears still streaming down her
battered face
she stumbles out, slams the
door
staggers up the front steps
into the tumbledown shack she calls home
somehow finds the kitchen
picks up the telephone
slams it down
picks it up again
breaks down sobbing
dials a number, still sobbing
it's the wrong number
she slams the phone down
tries again
still wrong
it's only three digits
why can't she get it right
1, 9, 1...1, 1, 9...1, 9, 9...
eventually she gives up
she sinks to the floor, defeated
the blood seeps continually
outward and within
her breathing sharpens
one lung impaled on a
broken rib
she sighs and tries
to stand but she's lost too much
blood
she lets her head sadly fall and thinks
that maybe this time he's truly beaten her to death



Words by WildGoose
Read 852 times
Written on 2009-09-24 at 01:10

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Aurora
i like this
and how the jolting rhythm complements the story
but it's reallyreallyreally scary
2009-09-24


Nick Matherne
this it rather terrifying
wow...
that is really all I can say...

So
Creative
And
Realistic
Yet because of that... terrifying

good write
2009-09-24