Tortured Artist

I was woken this morning by the sound of a girl crying in the next room. Which is really strange because the next room is a store room and as far as I know there aint no girls stashed away in there. So I figured it must be my blue girl ghost who appears every now and then.

Now here's an insight into my psyche. This reveals the torture I am in as a struggling artist. Read it and weep. Condemn my soul to eternal torment or just enjoy the wierdness that was my last nights dream.............

I was looking about and went into a room and there was this cute little girl there sitting on the floor sharing her sandwiches with a load of rats which she called her friends, they were swarming all over her hands and arms trying to get at the sandwiches and she was laughing. I looked on in disbelief and her mother walked in and started screaming fit to bust. I just stood there. The little girl sat there with all the rats saying "It's ok mummy they're my friends." the mother grabbed the little girl and pulled her away and as the rats fell off her arms she had no hands left the rats had eaten her hands and were scurrying away with fingers in their mouths. The little girl just kept on laughing. Then I'm running around trying to catch the rats to get the fingers back and try to stick them back on the little girls hands while the mother screamed some more, but it was a silent scream.

Chrikey with an imagination like that I should start writing horror stories a la Steven king or James Herbert. Forget being a musician I should be a writer or both.

iPod now playing - Spirit in the Sky by Doctor and The Medics