A/N: Yes! Another one! Could I help myself? NO! Hahaha! Another horror story filled with people messing with other people PSY-CO-LOOOOGICALLLYYYY! (Kudos to whoever recognizes that.) Anyhoo, THANK YOU for coming and WELCOME!-to the first installment of "Twenty-Three Things"! Note that these chapters will be the same as "Inanimate Objects Speak"—short.—Bloo :)
"What looks sewn starts so delicate."—Coming Undone, Korn
He flips and flips through the notebook.
A table overturns; glasses and plates shatter.
He drops heavily to the floor, heaving.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Nothing could make the perfect one.
He chuckles. How horrible.
Horrible. Absolutely horrid.
He crawls over to his notebook and begins to rip out pages. Everything in here is useless.
"USELESS!" he roars. The words is repeated, spat, vehemently hissed .
"Useless, useless, useless, USELESS!"
Years of trying, years of planning, all for naught.
His plan is useless, he is useless.
Pages are ripped out, thrown behind him. They flutter to the ground like large overgrown feathers.
Finally, all are gone, and all that is left are the covers. They lie still, untouched, unbothered, innocent of any wrongdoings.
They catch the man's eye though.
His eyebrows furrow, and confused eyes scan the list before him.
Suddenly the furrow is gone and the confusion disappears. His eyes are clear, his face determined.
This is his way to perfection, to redemption.
He looks up to the ceiling, imagining he can see beyond it, to the open sky above and whatever else may lie above.
"Oh Lord, my God…You will be pleased," he whispers.
He sets about fixing his workspace.
"You will be pleased!" he exclaims.
The list will ensure it.