Once again, I sat with blood, like warm soft velvet, covering in my hands. It felt thick, and it started to become sticky. I stood up, and looked down at my victim. A part of me always feels sorry for the last expression on their face. I closed their mouth and shut their eyes.
I climbed out of the hole, and began to fill it with dirt. With each shovelful, I was rejuvenated. I know it would take hours to fill; I wouldn’t be home until early morning. I stopped off at a local campsite to shower and dispose of my clothes.
Sleep came almost as soon as I laid down in my bed.
I woke up at about three in the afternoon and as I sat on the edge of my bed, I gazed at the device. No matter what I say to my younger self, I could not break this cycle. The conflict that continually rages in my head is …show more content…
Before I could touch it I folded it up and said “Come on, we don’t want anyone to see this stuff.”
We headed out to a small field out behind the Johnson’s little farm.
I laid out the roll and my younger eyes were wide with awe.
This time when I reached for it, I grabbed my young hand and with my largest cleaver cut off my hand at the wrist. Immediately the clever fell to the ground I looked at my own missing hand. I forgot to grab the other hand first. I picked up the cleaver with my other hand and stepped on the arm of the younger me. I looked over to see my young face in shock. I grabbed his bleeding arm and tucked it under my armpit, and wrapped it tight with the towel, and then I chopped off the other hand. I gathered up my cleaver and knife roll with my stubs, picked him up on my shoulder, carted him to the Johnson’s place banged on the door, and took off.
The next day I awoke in my room and looked at my stubs. That night I placed my artificial adaptors on my wrists the left one was large razor sharp pinchers and on the other stub was a surgical steal knife.
I wonder if I were blind, maybe that would stop
I climbed out of the hole, and began to fill it with dirt. With each shovelful, I was rejuvenated. I know it would take hours to fill; I wouldn’t be home until early morning. I stopped off at a local campsite to shower and dispose of my clothes.
Sleep came almost as soon as I laid down in my bed.
I woke up at about three in the afternoon and as I sat on the edge of my bed, I gazed at the device. No matter what I say to my younger self, I could not break this cycle. The conflict that continually rages in my head is …show more content…
Before I could touch it I folded it up and said “Come on, we don’t want anyone to see this stuff.”
We headed out to a small field out behind the Johnson’s little farm.
I laid out the roll and my younger eyes were wide with awe.
This time when I reached for it, I grabbed my young hand and with my largest cleaver cut off my hand at the wrist. Immediately the clever fell to the ground I looked at my own missing hand. I forgot to grab the other hand first. I picked up the cleaver with my other hand and stepped on the arm of the younger me. I looked over to see my young face in shock. I grabbed his bleeding arm and tucked it under my armpit, and wrapped it tight with the towel, and then I chopped off the other hand. I gathered up my cleaver and knife roll with my stubs, picked him up on my shoulder, carted him to the Johnson’s place banged on the door, and took off.
The next day I awoke in my room and looked at my stubs. That night I placed my artificial adaptors on my wrists the left one was large razor sharp pinchers and on the other stub was a surgical steal knife.
I wonder if I were blind, maybe that would stop