The Rot Read Online Free
Book: The Rot Read Online Free
Author: Kipp Poe Speicher
clouds above with an orange and pink glow.
Fading Into View
My eyes will not open all the way. The back of my head is stuck to what feels like bone-chilling pavement. Where is Kody? The last thing I can remember is sitting on a barstool at Third Base; this isn’t how I wanted to start my morning.
Sounds of screams fill the air as the squeal of tires and the rumble of a diesel engine approach me at a frantic pace. My sight still blurry, I duck and roll away from the sound of the metal monster.
Pain surges through my body as my tailbone is nicked by the crazed driver’s tire, throwing me underneath the parked truck I must have used as my bed last night. The undercarriage scrapes into my back, slicing deep into my flesh.
The rumble continues its journey further down the street, as I lay mangled and bruised. Eventually, I recollect my thoughts and my will.
The sound fades into the distance. I relax my body and wiggle my way out from under the rusted heap.
Grabbing hold of the cold metal, I pull myself up. My eyes are still barely open, and my vision is caked over with a blurry film. I’m still able to see the light growing brighter, as morning creeps over the horizon.
Equilibrium is not an easy feat. My ears feel compacted with something, but as I open my mouth the sounds become clearer. Taking in my surroundings, I finally get a sense of familiarity. Even though my vision is still like a muddy water color, I see shapes and colors that indicate I’m just a few yards away from my house.
The air is still bitter cold for an early July morning. Last night was so sweltering you could hardly breathe, but now frost covers the windshields of the cars in the driveways.
Faded Blues
Crossing the street, my eyes are still blurry, but they find familiarity in the gas light at the end of my driveway. Stumbling from the pavement into the soft gravel of my parking spot, I notice it’s not my car. It’s a car I have no remembrance of. Who is at my house this early in the morning?
I trudge towards my house, the light in my kitchen bay window suddenly drawing me to it like a moth to a flame. I squint my eyes and see a male figure standing in front of our refrigerator. Who the hell is that? Why is there a strange man in my kitchen only wearing boxers?
My breath quickens; I feel as if someone just kicked me in the face. What is my Elissa doing with this strange man? My one-year-old son is fast asleep in the next room while this man parades around in my kitchen.
My pain and hurt is snuffed out with an incredible surge of hate and bile. I find myself crashing through the side door of my kitchen. My eyes fill with a white heat as I tackle him and start to rip his flesh with my bare hands. My mind fills with a blood lust.
The flesh feels wonderful between my teeth as it stretches and snaps back, tempting me to take another bite. From down the hall I hear Elissa screaming as she sprints towards the kitchen. I look over my shoulder towards her advance, waiting to see the look on her face as she enters and sees what I have done.
What enters is not what I expected to see. It’s Elissa, but she’s much older now. Her long silky red hair has turned almost all white, and her baby-soft skin now looks wrinkled and worn.
Her eyes look upon me in horror. “Why did you come back? What have you done to our Billy?” Her words turn into sobs, quickly replaced with anger. Standing up, I feel the blood dripping down my chin. Behind her in the window I see my reflection.
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with my skin? Why am I dressed in my blues, and why are they so faded? In a moment it all becomes clear to me. I see headlights dance across the kitchen wall as the pickup truck slides through my front lawn.
I have just a moment to look down and see what I have done. Then I hear the glass shatter, and I feel the red hot
Fading Into View
My eyes will not open all the way. The back of my head is stuck to what feels like bone-chilling pavement. Where is Kody? The last thing I can remember is sitting on a barstool at Third Base; this isn’t how I wanted to start my morning.
Sounds of screams fill the air as the squeal of tires and the rumble of a diesel engine approach me at a frantic pace. My sight still blurry, I duck and roll away from the sound of the metal monster.
Pain surges through my body as my tailbone is nicked by the crazed driver’s tire, throwing me underneath the parked truck I must have used as my bed last night. The undercarriage scrapes into my back, slicing deep into my flesh.
The rumble continues its journey further down the street, as I lay mangled and bruised. Eventually, I recollect my thoughts and my will.
The sound fades into the distance. I relax my body and wiggle my way out from under the rusted heap.
Grabbing hold of the cold metal, I pull myself up. My eyes are still barely open, and my vision is caked over with a blurry film. I’m still able to see the light growing brighter, as morning creeps over the horizon.
Equilibrium is not an easy feat. My ears feel compacted with something, but as I open my mouth the sounds become clearer. Taking in my surroundings, I finally get a sense of familiarity. Even though my vision is still like a muddy water color, I see shapes and colors that indicate I’m just a few yards away from my house.
The air is still bitter cold for an early July morning. Last night was so sweltering you could hardly breathe, but now frost covers the windshields of the cars in the driveways.
Faded Blues
Crossing the street, my eyes are still blurry, but they find familiarity in the gas light at the end of my driveway. Stumbling from the pavement into the soft gravel of my parking spot, I notice it’s not my car. It’s a car I have no remembrance of. Who is at my house this early in the morning?
I trudge towards my house, the light in my kitchen bay window suddenly drawing me to it like a moth to a flame. I squint my eyes and see a male figure standing in front of our refrigerator. Who the hell is that? Why is there a strange man in my kitchen only wearing boxers?
My breath quickens; I feel as if someone just kicked me in the face. What is my Elissa doing with this strange man? My one-year-old son is fast asleep in the next room while this man parades around in my kitchen.
My pain and hurt is snuffed out with an incredible surge of hate and bile. I find myself crashing through the side door of my kitchen. My eyes fill with a white heat as I tackle him and start to rip his flesh with my bare hands. My mind fills with a blood lust.
The flesh feels wonderful between my teeth as it stretches and snaps back, tempting me to take another bite. From down the hall I hear Elissa screaming as she sprints towards the kitchen. I look over my shoulder towards her advance, waiting to see the look on her face as she enters and sees what I have done.
What enters is not what I expected to see. It’s Elissa, but she’s much older now. Her long silky red hair has turned almost all white, and her baby-soft skin now looks wrinkled and worn.
Her eyes look upon me in horror. “Why did you come back? What have you done to our Billy?” Her words turn into sobs, quickly replaced with anger. Standing up, I feel the blood dripping down my chin. Behind her in the window I see my reflection.
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with my skin? Why am I dressed in my blues, and why are they so faded? In a moment it all becomes clear to me. I see headlights dance across the kitchen wall as the pickup truck slides through my front lawn.
I have just a moment to look down and see what I have done. Then I hear the glass shatter, and I feel the red hot
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