Hello Hello, the word of the week was blur and it got really weird. The word blur was used for something moving to fast to see, and this week is horror, with all the blood, gore, and implied murder that I could pack into six sentences. Don’t read if you are squeamish, and if you aren’t. then join our poor narrator, witness to something unspeakable. Really, it’s never spoken.
It was moving too fast for me to keep my eyes on it, and trying was starting to make me dizzy, or maybe that was the blood loss.
It was like a blur, moving in and out so fast I couldn’t focus on it, and when it stopped long enough for me to see, the carnage beneath it made me look away.
I was never one to have a weak stomach, but I had never seen so much of what should be on the inside spread in pieces across a white tile floor, and if I hadn’t been able to smell the copper thick on the air, I would have thought I was looking at some bizarre modern art piece.
I knew that I was going to die, no one was going to survive this, and I should have fought it, rallied for life, but there was no way to forget this kind of horror, and there came a point where I knew that death would be a mercy, at escape from a life of trauma.
I wasn’t so lucky though, because that’s when the sirens rang in, loud and clanging, lights flashing blue and red, making the scene surreal in the ever-changing light through the window.
It ran, and I survived, not lived, survived, because I was missing too many pieces to enjoy my existence, every hour awake was pure agony, and yet it was the only respite I got from the abomination that haunted my dreams until the day I finally died.
Anne McSommers' Writing Nook 