We All Fall Down

You wake up on a table.  You try to move around, but quickly begin to find yourself strapped with leather bands to the sides of it.  "Hehehehe..." You hear, and turn your head to the right.  Out of a dark doorway, a figure walks towards you.  You laugh, thinking this must be a joke.  You tell him that this isn't really that funny, and that he should unstrap you.

     "I'm afraid not." He says, with a grim grin on his face.  It gives off a dark aura, sending chills down your spine.  He pulls a knife out of his pocket, and brings it to his face.  He smells the dried blood splattered on the blade, and smiles even wider.

     He grabs the side of the table and pushes, spinning it around. He starts muttering a slow, lower toned song.  "Ring around the rosie...." He sings, and jabs the knife down quickly, barely missing your leg.  "Pocket full of posies...." He continues, and jabs down again, cutting straight into your forearm.  "Ashes....Ashes...." At each pronunciation of Ashes, he jabs down twice in succession, stabbing through both your thighs.  "We all...fall...down..."  He stops the table from spinning and starts his next verse.

     "Ring around the rosie..." He says again, and grabs a letter opener. He spins the table again, but faster this time. "What...do you...suppose...we...can do to fight the darkness...." He holds the letter opener in place as you spin around with the table, making it etc hinto whatever skins passes it.  It eventually creates a deep circle about an inch into your limbs and face, and blood begins to pour itself out onto the table.  The blood spins wildly around the dark room as the table comes to a slow halt.  He has put jars on the floor to catch the blood from various parts of the table as it drips onto the floor.  "In which....we....drown..."

     "Ring around the rosie..." He repeats, and begins to slash wildly across you with the letter opener, making deep gashes on your stomache, chest, legs, arms, and face.  Bleeding and parts of your skin peeling off, he takes his fingers and begins to peel off a layer of your stomache.  You cry in pain, and beg for him to stop, but he will do no such thing. Not after going this far.  "This evil thing...it knows me..." He lays the piece of your skin on the floor, in the middle of the bottles.  The floor begins to vibrate and glow a bloody red.

       He begins to look horrified, and backs away as a black, smothering smog develops around you, choking you and strangling you at the same time, muffling your screams and cries of help and pain.  "Lost ghosts surround me..."  Disembodied hands begin to grope your flesh, continuing the peeling process of of vrious parts of your body as you thrash around to avoid them, but resisting only makes the pain worse.  The hands begin to pull at your body, trying to pull it straight under the table.  You scream continuously until there is no trace of your voice.  The table is gone, the blood has been removed with the jars, and the blood from his various tools instantly dries of the heat of the room.


"I can't...fall...down..."


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741