Happy is he who...writes from the love of imparting certain thoughts and not from the necessity of sale-who writes always to the unknown friend.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)





Friday, October 19, 2012

Entry # C8


Drip
S. Daniel Flynt

Drip, drip, drip. The incessant sound was driving me mad, but I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes. Where was it coming from? Was the damn bathroom faucet leaking again? Drip, drip, drip. My head was pounding and my limbs felt like lead weights. I didn’t remember drinking that much the night before. How could I possibly feel so hungover? Drip, drip, drip. My mouth felt like cotton and the sound was just making me thirstier.

After working the haunted house, a few of us went out for a drink. I was pretty sure I only had three, but my recollection was a bit hazy. It took a lot more than three lousy drinks to get me plastered. So how was it I didn’t know what happened after the bar? Jennifer and Stacy were giggling after two beers each. Mark and I thought we might get lucky. They were the hottest girls in the attraction. The only reason we decided to work it was because we knew they were working there this year. Jennifer played the role of a psychotic nurse and Stacy was a slasher victim. Both wore skimpy outfits that showed off their assets.

I had vague memories of seeing Jennifer’s face above mine. Did we have sex? Of all the things to forget, why did it have to be that? She was smiling and her auburn hair cascaded around her shoulders. Ugh. Did we or didn’t we? Maybe I just imagined that we did. My fantasy attempting to distract me from the constant dripping sound.

I was trying to fight against the restless sleep that was holding me. If I could find the source, I could stop it and return to my bed. And possibly Jennifer’s arms if we had indeed slept together. My legs wouldn’t move and felt as if something was wrapped around them. I probably got the sheets tangled around myself again. While I struggled to move even the slightest bit, I heard grunting and groaning from across the room. Mark and Stacy must be going at it. Then I heard a second female and realized it was Jennifer. What the hell?

Slowly, I started to peel my eyes open, afraid of seeing the girl I wanted getting intimate with my best friend and the girl he lusted after. Drip, drip, drip.

“Finally,” I heard Stacy exclaim. “He’s heavier than Daniel was.”

Heavier than I was? What was that supposed to mean?

After what seemed like an eternity, I was able to open my lids and everything was out of focus. The room had a reddish hue and was dim. The dripping continued at a faster rate. More like a trickle. The shapes of Jennifer and Stacy appeared in front of me, but upside down. My head was swimming with dizziness and I felt nauseous.

“They’re going to make a great addition my hospital scene,” Jennifer stated with wicked glee.

As the images became clearer, I saw Mark hanging from his feet, suspended over a tub that was quickly filling with the blood that spilled from his throat. I tried to scream, but the only sound that came out was a weak croak. It caught the attention of the two girls.

“Damn it, Jennifer. I told you to cut deeper. He’s still alive.”

“Sorry, Stacy. I didn’t want the blood to run into his face. He’s kind of hot.”

Jennifer walked over to where I was hanging and I saw the droplets hit the basin under me as I tried desperately to escape my bondage. Drip, drip, drip.

“Shh…it’ll be over soon,” she said.

And then the dripping finally stopped.

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