Release of Reason
The world changes in just a though.
Some bizarre test, the line of what is sane and insane is broken without a pause. A moment in memory takes flight and the measure of life lays on the line. Seething anger grows over time and the balance is on the line. Forever dwells in that moment, hope remains unseen. Pushed to the brink, it all falls apart. Life no longer has meaning and sanity shatters. Her life in the monsters hands pleads but his mind splinters. What measure of a man has he become. Just a turning point in time, nothing predictable. Her life wanes as his breaks. His eyes meets hers as the grey of lifelessness sets in. Splintered again, the agony of what he's done crushes his heart and very soul. He pleads with her to come back. His senses corrupt and reason released, her breath has ceased. Cries of remorse, he cannot reverse his course. He draws a blade from the drawer, he cuts. Soon he too, is never more. Can nothing undo his release of reason. Falls to the floor like the passing season. What evils can form is beyond all reason.
About the Creator
Jack Wayne Arnett
I enjoy writing in many genres. My favorite is horror, but I also enjoy poetry, romance and military life. I love the challenge of writing outside my comfort zone as a challenge. I live in Riverside, California and have 5 daughters.
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The Regency
Lost in the warm winds and dust blowing across the old fields of gold as single light called to my tired eyes. A nice surprise and no alibi to meet my weary mind. Call to me oh wayward spirits of days so far gone, take me in I'll heed your call. A gentle tap I gave the door. Silence fell as the door creaked open. Candle lit aroma filled my senses as a solemn slender figure filled the way. Her pale lit face crept a struggled smile as she bid me welcome. One soul this evening she beckoned? Shall I take your belonging to your room sir? Awe struck that I seemed to be expected, for sometime it felt. From the shadows stepped tall slender man whos eyes seemed to sink deep into his skull as he passed me by with a musty breeze. He took my only bag and vanished hence the shadows he came. Walk with me she beckoned as she took lead to a old oak desk. Tis a special night tonight she gleemed behind a sinister smile. Not to often we have visitors these days. Its been... Well since 1969 last I recall. That's 50 years ago this very day. The day our door was visited by a very special guest who bestowed quite a special gift unto us. She turned a old dusty guest book to me and held out a plume pen, please check in and we'll get the celebration underway she grinned. She pulled out from the lower parts of the old desk a single record disk and placed the platter. The crackling and popping of the music began to fill the air. An old song I recalled from my youth. All along the watchtower played as I began to slowly sign, my mind began to spin. As the last letter printed in the book my mind felt fraught in agony and regret. Welcome to Regency Arms a larger than life figure spoke down to me from the balcony now filled with at least 50 new faces. My mind began to flee, scared of what had become. Why does this place frighten me I so implored! My heart raced and the sounds of welcomes, music and applause filled the air. I wanted so to run. I wanted to escape. I moved to the door and the tall figure stepped in my path. Checking out so soon sir? Several people parted and left open the way. You can of course check out sir. But you may never leave. Your soul calls you here. Cant you hear them calling to you so far away? My mind went places to run. I screamed to escape and I moved to the door, through the portal I hit the floor. Dust fill the air I stood back up. There I was on the lonesome road a sight so strangely familiar. The single beacon called me once again. Darkness surrounds and madness abounds. I find my calling again, and return to that dark beacon of sin and madness. Memory fades as new day dawns, forever more.
By Jack Wayne Arnett4 years ago in Poets
In The Blink of Her Eye
Time itself bent and morphed, allowing Shannon the precious seconds needed to see and adjust to the disaster unfolding in front of her. Each frame showed minute details she would have missed had the clock not slowed down until she heard every click of the hands as they swept toward the end of everything. If only she was being melodramatic...
By Lisa VanGalen8 days ago in Fiction
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