ARCHIVE: The Flats, Might make a good horror media someday

By Faddewr Jun 6 2008 -

It all begins with a good look in the mirror.

I'm decaying.

Then the madness becomes aparrent.

I'm in a flat (it's like an apartment for my fellow Yankees) and it's fully equipped for living.

But no one living in the flats wants to live at all.

It's a suicide motel, where it's fully stocked with cyanide, revolvers with one shot, ropes for nooses, razor blades and things I never imagined. As I walk around my room, I get images of all of the other deaths going on in the hotel. Images of people, people hanging themselves, people cutting themselves, people poisoning themselves, people drowning themselves, and the ever present aura of people just letting themselves waste away.

I have a piece f folded paper in my hands, it's shaped like a wedge of a pie. And it opens two ways. One way is booby trapped, and opening it that way would trigger a hidden razor blade to slice your wrist. So I opened it the other way, harmless revealinga rusty razor, caked with blood. And there were only three words written on this paper.

"FIGHT FOR IT"

I didn't make sense at first, but as the images of people dying kept flashing in my vision. And I smiled, picked up a lead pipe from the kitchen, and calmly walked out the door.

The rest didn't make sense.

I was walking through the motel, and it's shape seemed impermanent. Bludgeoning anyone who came too close with my length of pipe. With each foot traveled through the motel, my decaying reversed a little.

Until I got to the lobby, gave the clerk my key, bludgeoned one more person who approached me and walked outside.

And it was a beautiful place. Rolling fields of tall grass that went on forever, eternally set against a sun-set sky that had grey clouds.

There were chickens everywhere. Cages scattered here and there, and they seemed to focus around the motel. Attacking and eating small black lizards that seemed to ooze from the foundations of the motel.

When I looked at my self again, all the decayed tissue had regenerated.

I looked around, swung my pipe a few times, and suddenly a sand path appeared through the fields. I followed it.


By Ishtahar Jun 7 2008 -

That was a pretty intense Dream Fadd.

Sounds like someone is trying to tell you something eh? smile.gif


By Faddewr Jun 7 2008 -

My dreams often are.

Yes. They are. Now where'd I put that pipe....

But let's analyze this:

The chickens are a dead giveaway to a higher power, containing the motel within itself to keep it from spreading into the fields (Paradise).


By Ishtahar Jun 7 2008 -

Or maybe you just have a secret longing to lay down all your burdens and go and live on a farm smile.gif

There is such a thing as over analyzing.


By Faddewr Jun 7 2008 -

I am aware of the existence of over analysis.

But who's say how much is too much and how much is not enough?

Two apples to a starving man would be more than enough.
Two apples to a glutton would be three apples short of a pie.
Two apples to an apple tree are just two apples.


By Azaz'el Jun 11 2008 -

Only you can say what is enough, for you.

Az


By Faddewr Jun 11 2008 -

It p****s me off when people say that.


By Azaz'el Jun 11 2008 -

Why? Is it because you know that is the only real answer that can be given and that you hope for a new answer?

Az


By Faddewr Jun 11 2008 -

No, because it's obvious.

It bothers me when people repeat the obvious.


By Azaz'el Jun 11 2008 -

All I can suggest is that if you don't want the obvious commented upon in an open forum then don't ask obvious questions....... otherwise people like me are bound to reply and annoy you even further. laugh.gif

Az