the body was set upon stone like some depraved art installation, splayed out and crudely misshapen, twisted. ribs jutted from blood covered tissue like rusted nails, a fleshy geometry of broken bones, skin pulled tight across vile protrusions. limbs were bent at angles no joint could ever accommodate to, a marionette abandoned amidst a great performance, tangled within its own ruined meat. spine had arched to the point of fracture, mouth warped in agony.
“ fuck’n hell, ” wind tumbles from his mouth, rushed and heavy, leaning towards dramatics. “ wouldn’t give his chiropractor 5 stars, ‘m telling yer’ ”
a smile splits across his face, a blade peeling back flesh. he turns, laughter begins shaking across cave walls like nails rattling in a metal drum, jagged and unclean; a bayonet scraping against bone. the laugh continued for just a moment too long, dry, serrated, feeding off the ugliness that lay upon the altar.
〝 that attitude is going to get you killed ― @forgotten-retrouvaille
her words slide off him like rain on a hot tin roof; scorched for only a moment. she meant it as a warning, but to him it spoke like prophecy. but he’d heard the same words uttered a hundred times over, planned to hear them a hundred times more.
“ we’re all livin’ on borrowed time, valentine, ” echo of his laughter clung to the cavities of his chest, the dying rattle of a broken machine. “ ain’t g'nna go mopin’ 'about 'round just ‘cuz some dead guy didn’t check trust pilot before making an appointment with the chiropractor of doom. ”