The Outside

The assignment was to write a short piece of prose poetry based on a dream. Bad idea. My dreams make Stephen King look like Jane Austin.



The Outside


The outside world ended two days ago, but I will never again know anything outside of these riveted doors. The end of the world proved no excuse to miss work. When the modern world exhaled its final dying gasp I found myself within the frozen dough freezer. I wont freeze freeze to death. Rather I will starve surrounded by fleshy masses of half thawed dough. I hear it again, a tiny clacking in my steel prison. Skritch. Skritch. Skritch. The steady scratching times well with the drip, drip,drip of melting ice. My only companions, along with the fungal stench of rising bread. Skritch! Skritch! Drip! Drip! Skritch! can't tell how long passes before the impatient skritch morphs into an angry scrape. The metal parts. Claws hook through the gap, and I hear them grunting my name. Against Death, stainless steel walls prove quite weak. Fear builds, it tastes like copper in my mouth. Fur coated paws press through the breached wall. A pack of wolves crawls through, lurch for me. I finally shriek. An image flashes across my mind, pigs undergoing decay. Their bodies bloated with intestinal gases, and maggot masses swarmed their flesh. Comfort deluges me. At least I wont have any intestines left to bloat. Rats can have the remains of me. I find rats cuter than maggots...




- Posted using the awesomeness of Salazar Slytherin!