Crazy Murder Times

He held his breath. His heartbeat pulsed. Movement was impossible.

Before him was a figure. Its hoarse voice rasped and wheezed. Its limbs twitched. It was stitched together with iron string. It had six arms. It had six legs. It had three faces.

He knew those faces.

Tears streamed down the faces.

Blood streamed down the face.

Iron string cut into those faces.

His best friend. His mother. His father.

The amalgamation of the closest people in his life dragged itself forward. Harsh moans, the sounds of flesh being stretched, and the scrape of dress shoes against crumbling concrete crawled into his ears.

Vomit lurched in his throat, but he was paralyzed and unable to release it from his prison of flesh.

He could not think. Horrible silence burned inside his mind. The image of the figure burned into his retinas. The vomit burned along his esophagus.

Six dead eyes met his own, tear-filled two.

Three mouths opened.

"Wake… up… James…"