Alistair looked in from the window of the abandoned shack in the woods, his brain a muddled network of confusion. He wiped his glasses hoping to erase the scene before him, back on his nose his glasses were cleaner, but the scene unfortunately stayed the same.
He contemplated running for help, then he thought of running off into the woods to escape the memory of what he had just seen. With each passing second fear and a growing curiosity kept him rooted to the spot much like the trees shadowed by the dull rays of the setting sun.
She was a sprawled mass of tangled limbs in a pool of blood, every part of her was covered in bruised slash wounds except her face. A face one could attribute to the fairest in the land, she was angelic. Even in her present state she still seemed ill-fitted to the dingy dust filled shack.
He was jolted from his transfixed state by a deep feeling of self disgust as he realized that a dead girl was turning him on. He turned to escape the scene when something more disturbing caught his eyes…….
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Choose Your Adventure.”
Original image from pinpicsnow