unfaithful-narcotics

He continually glanced from the spot on the wall to the clock. Back and forth, his eyes shot from place to place. The spot was only in appearance between dusk and dawn. As soon as the sun rose, the hideous thing would vanish. It always did. And it drove him mad. Weeks it had been; weeks without sleep for fearing that wretched blotch would finally break free of the wall in which It was encased and swallow him up. It was waiting for him. Waiting for him to fall asleep. Waiting to gobble him up. Waiting to eat his teeth and tendons. ‘Four hours until sunrise,’ he mumbled in his mind. The splotch began to squirm. It was anxious.