Paranoia

[Ely_Massacre]

The man from the night before. He's here, now. I can feel his presence; it's suffocating me, or is that my pillow? I can't tell the difference anymore. After two nights of this game, my senses have been completely whack. I fidget, wanting to leave the room, to chug down that sour liquid that lives in my refrigerator; I'm not talking about beer, either. Why does that thick crap calm me down? It's a wonder to me- and any woman that enters my home. But no woman is in my home now, but a man. An evil man, who emanates the very essence of the word "bad". It fills my room, my body, replaces my oxygen. Am I dying? Is that it? This sensation doesn't feel like death, but something more along the lines of... of anxiousness? Yes, that's it. I'm just anxious. Maybe I should just crawl from under my covers, take a peek. But what if that's what he's waiting for, the evil man, he'll pounce the moment he sees my giant head. Can he see my feet? Please, don't be able to see my feet. I haven't filed them in weeks. They lack being moisturized. How could I allow myself to be killed in this fashion? Will I be killed tonight? I still am curious. If so, he sure is taking his sweet time. The poor man is probably going for my feet. As long as it's not the hands. When placed in a coffin, people see your hands- or lack thereof. At least your feet are hidden- He just brushed against my feet. No, my whole body feels him crawling next to me. I can feel him, so close to me now, his breath on the back of my neck. It's cold, harsh, and stale. The smell reminds me of the color yellow: diseases, pus, disgusting leakage. Maybe I should have been a doctor- or someone in the morgue. I would have fit in quite well, or I will soon enough. He is wrapping his arm around me, trying to catch hold of me. He won't let go. I squirm, then fall out of bed, look over-

No one.

Time for breakfast, I guess.

[to be honest, I'm not sure if any of this fully describes paranoia]

[hillwalker]

It sounds more like a mixture of depression and anxiety, but I'm no psychologist either!

But I definitely sensed the helplessness and self-loathing of the individual you were describing. And the build-up of tension - cut free by that ending.

The obsession with looking presentable inside the coffin was quite amusing - as was the reference to unpedicured feet. But I couldn't work out what the 'sour liquid that lives (?) in the fridge' was meant to signify. I actually pictured there being bottles of blood in there, and that this was another vampire story.

And these few lines could have been handled better I think : 'It's a wonder to me- and any woman that enters my home. But no woman is in my home now, but a man.' - why 'any woman who enters my home' - and isn't the narrator a woman?

Otherwise, an enjoyable read with a touch of originality thrown in.

H

[Ely_Massacre]

Yay for comments. [:
Yeah, I didn't believe that it really revolved around paranoia, but something else entirely- or more than one "else". But I couldn't think of a better title to describe what was going through the narrator's head. Who, by the way, is male. Probably should have subtly placed that in there somewhere.
The "liquid" was meant to be rotten milk! xD Believe it or not. But, reading it over, I can see how that could possibly mean blood. Sorry about that. And all the random thoughts that seem to sidetrack him from "the man" are supposed to be silly, that's all. There's no significance other to show his mentality. Or lacking of. > w>
But I should edit this later, when I have more time. [: Thanks for commenting, Hillwalker. [:

[hillwalker]

Agh - rotten milk. Yummy!
And as for the narrator being a man - the fact that 'he' was accustomed to moisturising his feet made it seem much more likely he was a she.
I'm obviously not treating my tootsies kindly enough - or I have naturally soft skin.!!

H :-)