Lost. Sight. Labyrinth.

Lost (August 15)

It was somewhere behind the ketchup bottles and mixer grinder, probably closer to the knife set, soup spoons and the special ‘guest’ tumblers. Though, she could’ve sworn she last saw it in her cupboard drawer, close to her wedding bangles and meagre life savings.

Truth is, her talents were decimated the day she married him.

Sight (August 16)

"The rain monster messed the roads last night. Oh Mr. Whistle Blower is irritated again. What’s that awful smell? Ewww, bad choice of perfume lady! Whoa! Nice spoiler. Urgh. Someone didn’t wash their feet this morning."

As the light turned green, Rex’s scattered attention simultaneously converged to the zebra crossing ahead and the wheelchair behind.

Labyrinth (August 20)

The incredibly enticing aroma continued to flirt with Larry. Like a poltergeist set on teasing him, it evaded him on every turn.
He stared into the new pathway. Surely this was it. Alas! Another dead-end. His anxiety turned into desperation.

Taking pity, the scientist lifted him by his tail and united him with the cheddar.

Take 2

The poisonous words coalesced and floated ahead. Their coarse exterior made them loaded and primed to damage. Twisting and turning, they swiftly approached their destination.

On doing so, they shattered into a million malicious particles and dispersed into every corridor and hallway they could find.

Who would've thought an insult could lead to brain cancer?

Hedonism. Consequences. Escape.

Hedonism (August 9)

He shut the blinds, drenched the towel and tightly wrapped it around his neck.
He brandished the rusty butter knife and licked its end. It shone a muted red from the zero watt bulb overhead. He took a deep breath and smiled into the mirror.
Reopening the stab wound took him to his preferred dimension.

Consequences (August 10)  

Every dawn, he takes a shower and prays to the deity near the kitchen’s switchboard.

He then visits the local shrine and appeases his gods for long hours. As a pre-pubescent teenager, he had sworn lifelong commitment to his religion.

The concrete block that killed him was accidentally dropped by an atheist 8 floors away.

Escape (August 13) 

Two floors down, he felt free. Three later, freedom gave way to panic. He was immediately filled with regret and began yelling into the thick air. Five floors later, he tried to find balance amidst terror, the air now deafening.

As he safely bounced into the thermocol heap, courtesy a passing truck, he breathed again.

Anger. Sin. Kill.

Anger (July 26)

He pressed his pencil as hard as he could into the page and continued writing. The lines were strong enough to cause depressions across the next few pages. 

With his lower lip engaged in a muscle-numbing pout, his eyes darted from his friends outside to his mother who was vacuuming in the kitchen. "Homework first."

Sin (July 27)

He inhaled a remorseful breath. Staring at the marble floor, he caught his own reflection.

He felt a tremor through his body and felt his throat tightening. He looked back at his reflection and whined. His tail curled between his legs, he laid his wet nose against the floor.

Breaking a vase was considered unforgivable.

Kill (July 28)

The rubber felt smooth and satisfying as he tested its elasticity. He stooped to pick up a pebble and blew away the superficial dust.

Nestling the pebble dead centre in the slingshot, he pulled it back and squinted at a sparrow nipping away at its wings.

The pebble slayed both the sparrow and his innocence.