Treasure Island

Vasto Grom

(01/19/1990 / Houston, TX)

Still awake


I look at my phone again
2: 15 am
I roll over and wonder why?
Why am I not tired?
Why can't I sleep?
I was up all day and even worked out
So why am I still awake?

The house settles and I swear I hear a voice
It sounds familiar but I can't place it
I hear it again
No words, just a sound
I grab my axe and roll out of bed

As I leave my room and walk down the hall the voice grows louder
I can begin to hear the voice more audibly now
The axe grows heavy and I find myself dragging it on the ground
It makes a loud whine as it drags across the concrete

My neck becomes tired and my breath more labored as I find my vision narrowing
The voice now has a gender and age
She sounds young, but a child probably
And why does my body suddenly ache?
Why is the axe so heavy?

The concrete has turned to dirt and the hallway to trees
My feet crunch through twigs and fallen tree branches
I find that I can see a clearing
I'm so tired now and my body aches so much
I can finally see her

She sits in a pool of dark red liquid
Crying and whimpering
There are pieces of things all around her
Pieces of flesh colored statues
But why do the statues reek of death and decay?

My feet slosh through the liquid and the axe feels slightly lighter
My breathing is more ragged than ever
My sight has grown now extremely narrow
As I reach the little girl she simply looks up at me
And as I look down at her I spy something in the liquids reflection

My heart beats faster as I see a man like figure
He stands at least ten ft tall with a build of one who knows only fighting
He wears a massive, barbed & demonic mask
His body is covered in hideous scars and wrapped in barbed wire
And he carries and axe that seems as if wielded by a nightmarish executioner

But I am not afraid
I look away and to the little one
She smiles and holds out her arms to be picked up
I gently lean down and hoist her on to my shoulders
I remember not who I am nor how I got here
Just that she is happy

And as I slowly trudge through the sea of blood and death I hear her giggle
'Are we going to punish more bad men tonight Mr. Grom? ' she asks happily
My mouth makes no words simply a loud and ragged breath leaves me
She bounces softly on my shoulders and giggles in joy

Suddenly my phone goes off
Not my alarm but a call
I answer
The woman's voice is cold and professional
'Are you asleep? ' she asks calmly
I look down at my hands
Blood covers them and all around me as well
The stench of death tickles my nostrils
My arms are tired from swing the axe in my left hand
And all around me lay the scattered and shredded remains of men
I slowly raise the phone back to my ear
I can't recall who I am
I don't know how I got here
All I know is that she'll be pleased
'No' I mutter softly
'I'm still awake'

Submitted: Friday, March 29, 2013
Edited: Sunday, March 31, 2013

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  • One Who Waits (3/29/2013 3:40:00 AM)

    Hey bruthah,
    You need to talk to some people who can help you. Seriously, if you feel this way in real life, PLEASE don’t act on it. Everybody hurts. That’s a great song by REM. But, seriously, everybody hurts. Sometimes the hurt is deep. Sometimes we don’t understand why it’s there…but it is. So, if you have some hurt, please get that hurt helped! You’re real, Man. You have great things to say. And contribute. Be well. (Report) Reply

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