The Corrupted, Cheyenne Worsham [if you liked this book .TXT] 📗

From within it I heard a scream.

There was little light but a beam.

Where the scene began to tear at the seam.

The sound of ripping flesh could be heard.

I spun around, my vision becoming blurred.

I strolled down the hall, completely allured.

My calles still remaining unanswered.

Walking down that path of dark,

On the ground I found a mark,

A single puddle of bright crimson there.

I continued to walk through the halls.

The emptiness echoing my questioning calls.

Was I alone? I thought not.

Entering a room,

I was suddenly consumed

By the chilling need to run.

I found a light and to my fright,

Dead corpses surrounded me.

Blood stained the walls around me,

The scent of metallic red surrounding,

Thickening the air with its potent stench.

A shriek filled the chilly air,

From my throat it erupted.

Move, flinch, and run I didn’t dare,

For fear of the corrupted.

Distorted and burned was their flesh.

Their empty eyes sewn shut.

They carried a sword, a knife, a blade

That they used for the final cut.

As they enclosed upon me,

A soft and final yelp was sounded.

No air to my lungs.

Warm wet syrup dripped from my neck.

In the distance,

I saw the end.

The seal of my fate.

Text: Cheyenne Worsham
Images: Google
Editing: Microsoft Word
Publication Date: 03-20-2013

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