A short creative writing piece I wrote not long ago.

Just a little bit of light reading and an insight to my style of creative writing. Enjoy and let me know what you think of it!

I stretched out my arms and felt my shoulder blades collide. My eyes shot open at the sound of the alarm that had been ringing in my ears for a solid ten minutes. I hoped I wasn’t going to be late for work. I looked at the time- four in the morning. My eyelids slowly began to close again as my mind wandered off. I needed a new job. Maybe that way I wouldn’t have to wake up so early and listen to Rob gibber on about how he “wasn’t born with enough middle fingers” every morning. I finally decided get out of bed and make myself a cup of lemon tea.

As I waited for the water to heat up, I walked back in to my room and searched the cupboard for a jacket and the novel I’d been reading last night. I tripped over a few empty coke cans as I reached over and grabbed the brush that was buried beneath a pile of clothes. I sat down by the mirror and lit a cigarette. I inhaled several deep drags before butting it out, poisonous fumes filling my lungs and taking away thirty minutes of my life.

I brushed my hair thoroughly while I thought about going back to bed. I wasn’t feeling too good. Perhaps I should take a day off work and be lazy all day, eat and sleep. I noticed a few extra strands of hair attached to the bristles of my brush. I ran my fingers through my hair as I blandly tugged at the roots to see if any more hair would fall out. Nothing. I heavily sighed- I’d been damaging my hair too often lately with those frequent perms. I gradually continued to brush it.

And then I heard a slight thumping noise. Everything seemed to move and shake. I cried out blatantly at the sharp pain piercing my neck unexpectedly. As soon as it struck, it was gone. Vanished. It might have only been a few seconds. Strange.

I may have passed out then, I’m not sure. I wanted to throw up.

I looked down at my hands and noticed quite a fair bit of hair tangled around my fingers. I kept trying to make myself believe it was just an evanescent migraine. I probably didn’t get enough sleep last night or something like that. It didn’t change the fact that my hair was falling out though; and there definitely wasn’t anything glamorous about that. It had been brought to my attention that I’d been staring at my fingers for some time. I felt stupid and looked up at the mirror that was facing me. My reflection was gone and my desk was completely and utterly covered in the sleek, blonde locks that were once attached to my head. It was disgusting. My thoughts were barely coherent.

In fact, the entire room looked disgusting. The walls looked as if they were made of pure, succulent flesh. Every step I took sounded like I was stepping on something sticky, as if someone had dropped soft drink all over the place.

Or flattened congealed blood, perhaps.

There was no ceiling. Just blackness. My hand slowly reached towards the mirror as cold sweat dripped down my back. It wasn’t a mirror. My hands were burning. The hairs on my neck prickled and my eyes felt heavy. My ears were ringing audibly; my heart was beating too fast for its own good.

Making my way to the bathroom seemed to be the hardest thing in the world at the moment, like pushing a shopping trolley with two wonky wheels in a supermarket full of rushing single mothers. I bolted through the door as I proceeded to bend over the toilet and empty the contents of my stomach.

The flesh-looking walls were moving. They were pushing outwards and inwards and it was as if I were in the belly of a starving beast. I felt myself slowly sinking into the cocktail of filth.

I felt too disoriented, too light-headed to really understand what was going on. I picked myself up from floor and looked straight into the reflection of the bathroom mirror. It seemed as though I had aged so briskly in only a matter of minutes.

I reached the back of my head and felt two lumps. I quickly grabbed the hand mirror that was lying on top of the bathroom sink. I moderately lifted it up behind my head.

Two eyes opened up.