Art transforms, Billy.
He wakes up, beads of sweat trickle down his temples as Valis’ voice scurries to the back of his mind.
It has been three weeks. The freak who sees murder as a work of art has long been dead. But why does he haunt Billy still?
Drink your tea. Tie your shoes. Go to work. Billy thought his mundane routine could stop his mind’s engine from running withershins. But they don’t. He hates the man’s bloodlust but deep in the recesses of his thoughts, he is fascinated with Valis’ ingenuity. On how he staged those gruesome acts. Billy’s grief for that passion are tentacles taking grasp of his sanity.
He stared at the ceiling. Another day, another ordinary life.
The sun sets and the night rolls in. At midnight, his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream — the performance must be done.
Written Neekneraj’s Wordle and dVerse’s Prosery hosted by Bjorn who asks us to write a piece of prose of exactly 144 words inspired by a line from Maya Angelou’s poem, Caged Bird.
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
Today, I finished reading Dean Koontz’s novel, Velocity. This is my twist to the ending of the story.
Head over here to join the prompt!
May 12, 2020 at 9:49 pm
Oh, no! He’s about to join the twisted few!!
May 13, 2020 at 12:17 am
First of all, thanks for teaching me a new word — withershins! Secondly, a great write, encouraging us all to look at our neighbor with a worried eye!
May 13, 2020 at 2:46 am
Oh boy! He needs intervention and NOW! Such a scary premise!
May 13, 2020 at 3:51 am
Maybe Billy is just bored… there is a reason society needs drugs to calm our neighbors down.
May 14, 2020 at 8:14 am
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.