Author Topic: "Skin" Part 7  (Read 51 times)

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on: 10:51:47 AM 10/12/18
My eyes opened, and then I stared at the white ceiling for what felt like an eternity.

Tendrils of smoke seeped through the cracks of my door. The sweet smell of buttermilk landed on my taste buds.
 The smell of pancakes wasn’t enough to get me out of bed.

“Tommy.” Mom called.

I was uncertain about therapy; I would have to lie about what was bothering me. If I told the therapist about what I saw, I’d be locked into a small white room.

“Tommy, time for breakfast.” She called again.

After a few seconds, my stomach started to growl, and I couldn’t ignore the hunger pains so, I headed downstairs. Dad, Mom, and Stacey were sitting at the kitchen table eating, a platter of pancakes sat in the middle of the table along with a bottle of syrup, a gallon of milk, and a gallon of orange juice.

I sat down and served myself.

“Tommy, your father and I have noticed that you have been having issues.” Mom said.

My heart began to work overtime I felt weak, and I felt a knot twisting in my stomach. My appetite was gone, and I wanted to back to bed for ten years. I placed the syrup down and let my head drop.

“You’re not in trouble son; we’re just concerned is all.” Dad said.

“I know.” I said.

“You have an appointment with Mr. Warner at nine.”

I looked at the clock hanging on the wall; the meeting was in an hour.

“Ok, I’ll go.” I said.

Knowing that therapy may not help, but also at the same time wanting to ease my parents' worries. As I finished my breakfast, I noticed a terrible smell. It smelt like someone had just finished a five-hour workout and didn’t bother to shower. I scrunched up my face.

“What’s that smell?” I asked.

Mom sniffed the air then covered her nose.

“That’s you, Tom.” She said.

“Ewww.” Stacey added pinching her nose closed.

“You should shower before you leave son.” Dad said.

After breakfast, I jumped in the shower.

Time must have escaped me because when I came downstairs after the shower, Mom was waiting by the door jacket on and keys in her hand.

“All right, we’ll be back soon.” Mom said to everyone else before opening the door. 

We got into the car and headed off.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at Mr. Warner’s office.

On the way in we passed by a man smoking a cigarette.  A cloud of gray smoke engulfed us.
We both coughed violently.

“Second-hand kills, man.” Mom said.

 We walked into the building, Mr. Warner was waiting for us outside his office.

He wore a black suit with black dress pants to match. Red lips parted into a smile exposing white rows of ivory, a neatly trimmed mustache lined his face. For someone who looked like they should have been in their late fifties or sixties, he seemed to be in good shape. He extended his hand outward for me to shake it.

“How are you, Tommy?” Mr. Warner asked.

“Good.” I said.

“Let’s head into my office.” He said.

I followed him to his room.

 The room was plain: Eggshell white walls, and a long black couch was across from his desk, a framed degree hung on the wall behind him.

“Tommy have -”

His face turned black as oil.

 Patches of his face were as red as magma.

The room smelled like an ashtray.

A familiar taste of smoldering flesh filled my mouth.

“Skinnnnn.” He hissed.

“No, no, no, no,” I said as I backed away while tears rushed down my face.

He stood up from behind his desk and walked after me.

“Skinnnnnn.” He hissed again.

I fumbled with the handle for a second.

I looked back the thing that was following was all burnt and charred. It reached its hand out to me trying to grab me.

I tore the door open and ran for the exit screaming.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” Mom asked panicked.

“He’s trying to take my skin!” I screamed.

I dropped to that ground and began to shake violently.

“No noo noooooooo not my skin.” I screamed incoherently.

The smelled ebbed, a hand rested on my shoulder, I turned to see Mr. Warner instead of a monster.

“It’s okay, Tommy no one’s gonna hurt you here. I’m going to help you.” His voice smothered with concern.

All fear left my body.

“I’m ok...I think.” I said.

“Why don’t we go back to my office and talk for a bit.” He said.

“Okay.” I said meekly.

“So, what stresses you out so much?” He asked.

I swallowed hard.

“It’s the smell of smoke, every time I smell smoke it’s like I’m back in the room the night my grandfather died.” I said.

My lips quivered, and mucus rolled down my face. Mr. Warner handed me a tissue. Before I knew it, time was up. On the way to the car, a buzzing filled the air. Mom reached into her bang and pulled her Nokia.

“Hey, Mom. What? There's no girl on a tricycle clanging a bell.”

My stomach turned to mush, and my legs felt like Jell-O.

“We’re gonna stop by Grandma’s real quick before we go home.”

My heart began to race as I got into the car. I sunk into my seat and tried to calm down. Mom pushed the key into the ignition and turned it; the car came to life. We were on the way to Grandma’s house.

« Last Edit: 12:59:14 PM 10/14/18 by Logan96 »


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on: 08:43:55 AM 10/13/18
Is there a reason almost every sentence is it's own paragraph?


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on: 12:43:03 PM 10/13/18