pestilence: (Default)
pestilence ([personal profile] pestilence) wrote on November 7th, 2012 at 05:22 pm

Incorporate three of the following:

bloody kisses



dead trees

cracked pavement

a window which won't open

an old calendar


The sound of the vintage record player, some underrated Russian composer drifts out unto the empty streets through the backdoor that's left swinging in the gentle breeze. Occasional gusts creep through the kitchen. Like intruding phalanges ruffling a calendar dated a few months ago. Pages are scattered about the room, matted to the floor with rain from the last storm and congealing blood.

An old birthday card tugs free from grim and flutters out the door. Weaving haphazardly around the street, caught mid-flight by a gloved hand. It pulsates in the hand, longing for freedom once again as it's message is violated under intruding eyes. Til its crushed between two indifferent fingers and discarded once again imprisoned in various fluids and matter mantling the street.

The gloved being moves on towards the empty house, whose belongings have trashed this portion of the street. He walks with purpose, altering everything in his path, without touching a thing. Neglected shrubs and tangling grass blades seemingly wilt beneath his cold gaze.

He slams the beckoning door shut, causing photo frames to slip from the wall and shatter. The room embraces it's latest intruder, curtains stretching out caress him arm, only to be torn from their rods. With control force, board-lining on anger he attempts to open the window nearest to him, with the intent of dulling the offensive smell. The glass does not budge. There's bloody hand prints all over the window, he's momentarily caught off balance at his blatant over sight.

The stair case is old, in need of a list full of repairs that will never be tended to. It shifts and groans reluctantly supporting his weight. The second floor is slightly different than the first. The orchestra music still emanates through out the house, but its off beats are dusted with another sound.

The door at the end of the hallway is left ajar. There's anther new sound, something is disturbed and presumably falls from a shelf. The Hallelujah Chorus rings out from room. He picks up his pace and shoves the door open.

On the middle of the once white carpet, now a ghastly red lays two withering figures. Are creatures of some sort, something mangled and alive in all the wrong ways. He clinches his fists, it is time.

The things do not acknowledge his presence perhaps are not even aware.

Withdrawing a lighter from his pocket, he slips off a glove and flicks it open. The flame emerges and dances in approval of being temporarily unleashed. It stretches, folding itself over to graze the tip of his finger, prompting him to terminate its presence.

The creature, with a decomposing woman's face shrieks as its pulled from it's bloody lip-lock and begins salivating, teeth snapping at the flesh wrapped around it's neck. With a quick muscle contraction it's head rolls to the ground. The other body responds differently cowering beneath the man's formidable presence. He bludgeons this one back to death shattering its skull.

The flame returns, and clings to the ugly flowered curtains. It spreads hungrily, desperate for anything it can consume within its reach. Expanding its territory until the flame owns it all.

The house burns to the ground. He swipes his finger through the ashes and wipes it off on the left shoulder of his jacket and left. 

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