Tar and Street Lights

''Another boring day; another boring day wasted and made into nothing but me sitting here at this cursed computer. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Internet. It’s my life, but I do suppose I should do something else now. ''

''I clambered from my chair, wrapping my arms tightly about my chest as I shivered. A breeze blew through my cracked window, the darkness illuminated by the soothing street light outside. I used to be scared of the lamp, for its strange orange yellow hue, but after all these years I’ve grown used to it. A huff emptied itself from me and I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking about everything that happened today. Absolutely nothing. Whatever. There was always tomorrow to accomplish something productive. ''

''The shadows continued to taunt me as I lay in bed, watching the ceiling as if it was going to run off and expose me to the sky. Though I suppose that would be okay since stars are so beautiful. And it was at that moment that I felt as if there was something there. Watching me. Of course since I was old enough I brushed it off as nighttime paranoia. Everyone gets it occasionally so this was nothing special. Still, I forced my gaze to search the dark corners of my room. And there was nothing there. I sat up in bed and looked out the window, down at the street light on the blacktop. Nothing again. Eventually I couldn’t take it and got up. I went downstairs and grabbed a glass of milk, chugging two glasses of the creamy goodness before hauling myself up the steps again. ''

''It’s two in the morning and I still haven’t slept. I don’t feel like anything’s watching me anymore, but it’s the thought that I had been watched, or at least expected to be, that kept me from drifting off. I lied still and awaited the dread to return, but it never did. ''

''Two thirty now, and there’s still no feeling. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m still awake in the first place. I’m exhausted, dreary and in serious need of a back massage. But that could wait. The shadows seem to be moving for some odd reason, like a hallucination, but that was fine. Maybe it would get me to sleep. ''

''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Four fifteen, and I woke up again. But there is something in this room. I’m sure of it now. A burglar? A murderer? No, nothing would wait so long. My god, I feel so unsure right now. I’m not even sure if I am unsure. Am I? I’m not going to bother thinking anymore. Just focus on what’s watching you, staring at you and not looking away. ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">I’m choking, it feels like I’m choking. Why is it so hard to breathe? Why can’t I answer any of my questions and actually believe myself? I sat up in bed for what seemed like the millionth time, and felt something drip onto my stomach. Something ‘dripped’ onto my stomach. I reached down, breath staggered and ran my fingers through the substance. I sniffed at it, almost expecting it to be blood, but it wasn’t. It almost smelled like… ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Tar… <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">What? ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">                I fumbled for my nightstand, coughing slightly from the rancid jelly-like goo spilling from my mouth and nose. I clicked it on and stared dumbfounded down at the sight. I was painted with black, the liquid was warm, bubbling all over me, staining my pajama top. I pried some from my lower lip and stared at it, flicking it between my digits. It curled around my fingers and slid up towards my mouth. My hands grabbed frantically at the tar. Its inkiness clasped around my throat, suffocating me, closing off my supply of sweet oxygen. I was going to vomit, I knew it. And I did, but the ebony mass slithered against the regurgitated milk and dinner. It forced it back down, and I swallowed the object out of instinct. I writhed and retched again from the sour, acrid hot flavor scourging my tongue. I felt a sudden sharp pain in my gut, then a small pop, a tug on my organs within. I hurled all over my bed, the stench overwhelming my senses as it was stained with red. I hacked against the tar, churning my innards into a soup of agony. The torment constricted my lungs, like something was ‘ripping’ at them. I hurled again, feeling something thick and heavy splatter out onto my plush pillow. It was an intestine. An organ. I gagged and choked up another few meters of the chord which piled up in a crimson pool. They were soon followed by a kidney, my stomach fell out after and I dropped to the carpet. ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">                Spasms jarred my nerves, causing me to lock up. I couldn’t believe this was real. It must be a dream, I must be sleeping at last. But no, nothing so torturous could exist in my unconscious mind. My hands held the wet shag. I rolled onto my back, staring at the long rope still halfway out of my mouth, the pain excruciating, throbbing, and stinging all at the same time. Something, the tar, pushed at the wall of my belly. In the spot where my stomach used to reside, but now lay cold and repulsively dead on my covers. ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">                I was split open, skin ripping and all I could do was watch and grow horrified at the sight. Black overflowed onto the ground and over my freezing, bleeding skin. Shadows crept over my eyesight, and I had never been as scared as I was now. I had never been a fighter, and I almost welcomed the relief languidly billowing up my bones. Was I dying? I think I was. My mahogany view fell onto the tar, but there was no tar. Just a girl, or a woman of about 20 years old. A look of hope filled my visage, but no smile graced my scarlet colored cavity. I couldn’t muster enough energy to do so. ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">                This female, reminding me almost of myself with pallid attire. Her figure, hands, feet, mouth, eyes, nose, clothes. It all dripped, like she was made of the substance. I reached towards her feebly, signaling her to run, to get away from the tar before she ended up like me. But what scared me the most was the soft, compassionate smile on her face. She crouched beside me, setting surprisingly cold and sharp objects on my cheek. They were claws, though they were attached to what seemed to be hand guards from the little bit of light from the old street lamp. Her voice hissed, silvery and echoed as if she was speaking from another world entered my fading hearing. ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">

<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">                “Have you ever wondered why the world is so messed up, so cold and hateful? Have you ever wondered, ‘what did I do to deserve this?’?” I couldn’t move, all I could do was stare into the emotionless, narrowed vermilion orbs. She lightly patted me, but even that was enough to draw blood from the wicked points on those hooks. “I have. And I’ve pondered this. But then I remember myself, and I realize how similar we are.” ''<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">