She's Gone

Shelly’s heart was sinking last October. He asked people why she was tumbling, but no one knew the answer. The knife was found beside the bed. He couldn’t find any fingerprints. Her light was dim in the tunnel. The sheets were blood. He rushed her to a clean room. More cuts were sunk. She floated past reality.

News was flashed across the country and her name was synonymous with gone. He didn’t know where to go. His mind was spilt diagonally. He couldn’t catch a lot of long nights. There were many horrific pictures printed along the ceilings and walls of his house. He needed to find her poisoned apple.

He searched in circles, beneath the counter and above the sink, and all he could find was her legacy splattered across many rooms. There was nothing to go from. He decided to leave her behind him.

It lasted some odd number of days. He couldn’t resist her stare in red haze. He was back in the basement looking for more stories and more people. He was lost in dreams and ideas, but there was nothing to find. Her face stayed tattooed to him. He left her journey gone.