Tag Archives: chest

Glancing behind my shoulders and peering through the trees, my heart thumping and my feet falling on the ground making no sound. My ragged breath was ripping my chest open, it hurt so bad in my raw throat, after swallowing flames and smoke. The house burned behind me, a blazing inferno. There was no way this was from a lit candle catching fire on the paper towels, but someone threw a match in to the dead summer grasses infront of the house by the window, where the flames could engulf the drapes.
My throat hurt to much, I couldn’t walk anymore. It hurt too much. My eyes had gray spots in my upper line of vision, and they were taking over. My mind was cloudy and shutting down. Something held me up, not a broken tree, but strong, cold hands. Teeth clamped down on my neck, and my head drooped as I slipped into unconciousness.
The halucinatins came first. Ants boring into my eyes, my mother dying, my sister, who lived 6,000 miles off the coast in Europe or Asia or somewhere, dead with cuts on her arms and throat, blooded out. Bats swarming me, biting off flesh and drinking my blood. It seemed so real, but of course, I’d learn later, none of it happened after I fell asleep for the final time.