Written while listening to the song: 'Singularity' Comebac by BTS. A stab feels stabbed in my heart, agony and anomalies along with a dust that spreads where I am until it tinges everything with a totally bitter brown color.
The night is dark, so dark that everything hurts, will you help me to go on? It seems that the questions are not adequate in the tessitura that has been traced in the nocturnality of my soul. My being wants something, but all I can do is to pour and surround my body with a soft disguise that reflects the horror of a ghost, one that wishes to hide the human reality.
This has no other answer than that of a pumpkin illuminating the garden to a strange melody. How old am I? You guess! I simply took the basket and while my death wish was granted, I returned to that infamous city, to what? Coffee candy has always been a small fragment that can satiate this exclaiming agony.
The wind blows like a tribulation, and a human head surrounds among that scene, whose head has been cut off? The blood is simply a pronounceable discomfort next to the guts that are visualized in that corpse.
"The lack of benevolence of the dead is a pleasant exclamation."
Children laugh with candy, the Halloween party was appreciable, of course, I simply poured in the coffee creamer punch a little sulfur so everyone can die with me this time, why should you laugh on this night if my heart hurts?
The sound of the guillotine has subsided, and the aestheticizing memory of how children play at collecting candy sharpens, but they don't know that there is an abominable fact, and surprise in the coffee cake at the party where everyone ends up after collecting these in this city that is like hell. It's not just poison, it's more than that, guts and brains are its filling.
Do I look bad? My soul is stabbed, it is sullied and possesses a stake. Forgive me, I am just a child this time who has become a ghost, whose throat shall I slit? In my house human flesh was chopped with a few saws, the sound seemed the infamous melody dictated.
Can you help me collect a few coffee candies? Which house? The wind is blowing hard as I take one step at a time, what a deadly scene. The dead cry out, "Help me."
"I laugh at the way they beg me to save them."
As they all entered the room after collecting the candy they had stolen from me in this bloodthirsty dream, each one began to drink the cream punch made of coffee and amidst the laughter at the party, now a portrait captured from a movie began. The eyes of each of them began to contract, blood began to flow from their hungry mouths, the screams get worse and naturally there was now one more scene left to appreciate, yes, my smile as I watched them each succumb to this excitingly grim mischief.
In the game I stood up and approached the most beautiful girl in town: "Today I can kiss you, but this will be the last kiss you will ever give". My smile was wide, aggravated and macabre.
"The coffee candies will all be mine."
Tun, tun, and tun, that was the sound, which was felt when knocking on the doors of each of the owners of those houses. A smile, a candy, however, in one of the houses an old man came out and told me: "You are going to real hell", and threw a package of coffee without any other kind of argument.
I ran out, now all the candy was mine among the scene of the dead, however, it was time to make more punch with a little poison, so I opened the package of coffee the old man gave me, and something was certain, that something pierced my chest. The punishment was always to wander in this deadly city full of the dead like a ghost that poisoned on Halloween thousands of children as if life was a simple or abhorrent game.
This was always the argument:
which was perverse.
Hi friends, this is my new entry to the #STB Creative Writing Prompt 16 at Cinnamon Cup Coffee, this time I would like to invite 
Image Source: Freestocks|Unsplash | Mae Mu |Unsplash | 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič |Unsplash | Mae Mu |Unsplash .
The designs were made in Canva: Link | Link| Link .
