Written for Sherri Gibson's Coloring The World Contest |
HAUNTED CORRIDORS The night was pitch black, not even a sliver of moonlight to break through the darkness so deeply felt in her heart. She walked the haunted corridors, possessed by demons that would not let her forget, rest was out of the question. She held the knife tightly in her hand, entering his room. He slept soundly, unaware of the danger he would face. Her starched white uniform was in sharp contrast with eyes that found no compassion, a nurse who invited death in. As the knife found its mark, blood spurted from the vein and within minutes, he had left the land of the living, doomed to become another who walked the corridors in search of release, of finding the light to save his soul. She left him there and turned to the doorway, satisfied for the moment, another helpless feeling of discontent vanquished, a mortal enemy slain before he could inflict the hurt she had felt so many times, for so many years. They walk at night in the pitch black, searching still. They cannot harm her anymore, she is free - until the next time, when her mind plays the sweet song of the doomed, who pass her by in the darkness. Countrymom 5/15/10 |