“AHHHHHHHH!” I scream, ripping off the arm from the socket and not seeing a single wire come from the joint. I just realized what I have in my arm isn’t actually fake. My ass landed on the ground, I’m pinned next to the table and as things go bad to worse, a skull lands right on my man cave. “Ah! Oh! Ah!” Fearful, freaked out gibberish sounds sputter out from my mouth and I squirm away from the undead living room scene to get back on my feet and try to kick the skull away from me. “Jesus!” My low voice squeaks and I grit my teeth.
‘Breathe, breathe, breathe’ I keep telling myself to keep my mind sane. I’m staring at the scene and the skeletons with new, disturbed, eyes. I don’t want to touch them, but I am now realizing that they aren’t fake either. Through my visual senses being freaked out I hadn’t even heard the radio. Now its scratchy noise bothers me. I’m starting to get scared. I hate this with everything in me. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Fear almost gridlocks me and that heavy stillness in my body makes me resentful to whoever brought me into this warped joke.
Bolting, I run to the door on the left to try and open it and flee. At this point the fact I’m carrying a skeleton’s arm is the least of my concerns. Bone is disgustingly smooth.
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