#petsematery

[john-mulligan]

. . Retro Picture Show Presents: Pets From Hell The Stephen King Triple Feature . Cujo . Cat’s Eye . Pet Sematery . #cujo #catseye #petsematery #retropictureshow. #alamodrafthouse #alamodrafthouseyonkers #alamodrafthousegreaterny #alamodrafthouseyonkersmulligan @alamoyonkers @retropictureshow (at Alamo Drafthouse Yonkers) https://www.instagram.com/p/BsR_xqOFND9/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1i2zw0yrhlcoc

[amikokeshi]

Pet Cemetery Terrarium #terrarium #miniature #habitat #halloween #pets #petsematery #petcemetery #diy #diycrafts #diycraft #diygift #handmade #handmadewithlove #imadethis #feelingcrafty

[craftcubeblog]

Pet Cemetery Terrarium #terrarium #miniature #habitat #halloween #pets #petsematery #diy #diycrafts #diycraft #diygift

[shadowoftheflcme]

Pet Sematery (M!A rp)

"And I thank you for it. Really, I do."

The echoed words jolted him out of an already uneasy sleep. Hughes stared up at the ceiling, its plain white already brightening with the light of a new day. Another dream. He'd lost count of them over the past few nights, each one different, each one still the same because each one was about him. About the man who had died in a stupid car accident a few days ago. About his closest friend on this earth.

And he couldn't even get in touch with anyone to verify it. That was the worst part. Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, thought dead in a car wreck and Hughes couldn't confirm it. The mission he was on had required complete radio silence, leaving him with only what was reported via word of mouth or in the incredibly sporadic newspapers. He couldn't risk calling anyone lest he blow his cover, and the days had gone by only cementing the thought in his head that he'd lost his closest friend.

The mission was all but over now, though; all that remained was the tying up of a few loose ends, and that didn't take him very long. By noon it was all over but the paperwork, which he had absolutely no will to do. Instead he took the rest of the day off, fully intending on finding perhaps a little solace in a bottle of whisky...or his blades, if the alcohol couldn't take the hurt away.

By that evening he'd gone through almost an entire bottle, alone in his apartment. His left arm bore a fresh bandage, its sheath lying on the bed beside him, the knife on top of it. So stupid...getting hit by a car...he downed his glass, refilled it, stared at it. What happened to that stupid dream of yours...? Another sip, the alcohol burning on its way down. You weren't supposed to die at all, let alone like this...

You weren't supposed to leave me alone...