Post by CGisNuts on Oct 24, 2013 2:50:32 GMT
I'm writing a short story and I have wondered if anyone has experienced that story about saying Bloody Mary X number of times then looking in the mirror and seeing the devil. That has alway stuck with me.
The Devil
He waits for me. He's somewhere around. I think of him from time to time, mostly between the times in between doing something, the times when I'm between working on a proposal or an idea, or the chores. The times when my mind wanders from doing mindless things to fill that empty sliver of space.
I sometimes look in the window, or around the corner, expecting him to be there, but knowing he's not. One day he will be there. One day my make believe of him there will not be make believe, one day he will show up.
I often think he's around the corner, waiting. At 11 am when I'm ending some work or the chores and I'm about to brush my teeth, I imagine he's going to be in the bathroom, or around the corner. I'm expecting him to be in the mirror when I look up.
Sometimes at 3am I'm sure he's waiting in the bathroom, waiting to surprise me while peeing. When I look in a mirror, window or turn around, I expect him to be looking back, ready to cash in or settle a score.
Wherever I live, he lives there too. He always has. I wonder what he looks like. I wonder if his face is not the black ink spot I sometimes imagine, like that picture of Christ, the Turin cloth that used to hang in my mothers home, right above the thermostat.
I wonder what he wants. What does he want? As I'm writing this I imagine he's looking at me.
I imagine the conversations we will/would have. What will he ask me? I imagine that I can't look at his face when he's talking. A few times I have seen evil and demons, right out in the open. I chalk it up to seeing to many movies and it's only some sort of mind trick from those flicks.
But I don't think this will be like that. I may shit my pants. Because if and when he does come, it's going to be scary as shit. It won't be pleasant. I imagine his voice as muffled, like those voice disguisers you hear on tv to hide a witness in protective custody.
As I'm writing this I am planning to smoke a cigarette, and am thinking of him right outside of my room, or downstairs. I imagine he has things he wants to talk about.
The Devil
He waits for me. He's somewhere around. I think of him from time to time, mostly between the times in between doing something, the times when I'm between working on a proposal or an idea, or the chores. The times when my mind wanders from doing mindless things to fill that empty sliver of space.
I sometimes look in the window, or around the corner, expecting him to be there, but knowing he's not. One day he will be there. One day my make believe of him there will not be make believe, one day he will show up.
I often think he's around the corner, waiting. At 11 am when I'm ending some work or the chores and I'm about to brush my teeth, I imagine he's going to be in the bathroom, or around the corner. I'm expecting him to be in the mirror when I look up.
Sometimes at 3am I'm sure he's waiting in the bathroom, waiting to surprise me while peeing. When I look in a mirror, window or turn around, I expect him to be looking back, ready to cash in or settle a score.
Wherever I live, he lives there too. He always has. I wonder what he looks like. I wonder if his face is not the black ink spot I sometimes imagine, like that picture of Christ, the Turin cloth that used to hang in my mothers home, right above the thermostat.
I wonder what he wants. What does he want? As I'm writing this I imagine he's looking at me.
I imagine the conversations we will/would have. What will he ask me? I imagine that I can't look at his face when he's talking. A few times I have seen evil and demons, right out in the open. I chalk it up to seeing to many movies and it's only some sort of mind trick from those flicks.
But I don't think this will be like that. I may shit my pants. Because if and when he does come, it's going to be scary as shit. It won't be pleasant. I imagine his voice as muffled, like those voice disguisers you hear on tv to hide a witness in protective custody.
As I'm writing this I am planning to smoke a cigarette, and am thinking of him right outside of my room, or downstairs. I imagine he has things he wants to talk about.
