cynderandspyro5

The dark air reeked of clean linens, antiseptic, and illness. My breathing was coming very slow and shallow, so I tried breathing deeper, but it wouldn't work. Instead of getting more needed air, I felt a pinching pressure in my chest, and my lungs refused to fully inflate. Why couldn't I breathe? My heavy eyelids slid open and were greeted by a dim light that was affixed to a clean white ceiling. I did a 180 sweep with my eyes of the room: everything was in perfect order, clean, white, crisp, and sterile. There were a few burgundy cushy chairs seated around the bed I was lying in, the tiled floor was grey speckled with white flecks, the bed

NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET: INNOCENT DEMONChapter VII:  "Madonna and Child" REVISED EDITION Written by Abri Isgrig and Diane N. Tran Refreshed and, above all, satisfied, the gardener relaxed back on the inclined mattress of his hospital bed, his eyes half-lidded, his breathing leisurely and content, and allowed his body to surrender to the gratification, albeit self-gratification, that washed over him. It had been a long, long while. But his peace did not last long, as he jerked awake at the sound of a knock at the door. Quickly tossing two balled up tissues into the wastebasket beside his bed, he covered up with the blankets. See no evil, thi