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| - I woke up with the very faint taste of blood in my mouth. I could feel the pain in my lung throbbing rhythmically to the vexatious ticking of that damned clock. It was accompanied by the dripping of my very own crimson liquid clicking against the cement flooring. I had to admit, it was rather nice having this irritable sound keep my mind of my punctured lung, pulsing out my valued liquid with every breath. I had the strong urge to sit up, but I knew I couldn't. I quickly began to feel anxious, I needed out. I was about ready to do myself in when I heard the door arrogantly creak open, showing no remorse for my new-found headache. I tried to turn my head to see it. I let my head fall back to its original position. I knew what was there. That abomination, the vermin. I could only begin to imagine what it would want with me now. My last few minutes of life, and it was here to deprive me of a proper death. It's familiar stench corrupting my once clean lungs, what was left of them anyway. The date was February 8th, 2009. This was the day I spent laying impaled on what use to be my favorite pool table in the pub, breathing in my last breaths of oxygen. February 8, 1989. The date of my birth, something I've never thought much of, I've never had to. It was in 1989 that the vermin, in which I later found myself giving the formal nickname, The Scritch, started to take a particular interest in me. Something was wrong from the beginning. Although I was too young to remember any of this, its illuminated yellow eyes have always stuck with me. Flash memories would be the best way to describe it, I'm sure you know what I mean by that. Nonetheless it kept its distance. I must've only seen it a few times being in the close care of my mother. My childhood lacked its involvement until the age of 7, February 20th, 1996. It was at this point that I had 3 dogs, all of which came from the pound. I thought of myself as a savior. They were going to be put down, hence the reason I chose to adopt them. It was a month before this, January to simplify things, that my first dog had an unfortunate death that I would've been so bold as to call a gruesome coincidence. Unfortunately for me that wasn't the case. As said it was February 20th. I was walking home from school, I never took the bus. There was a large field I had to walk through to get to my neighborhood, a childhood memory I was quite fond of up to this date. It was lined with trees, caging me in until I made it to the other end. I was moving at my average pace, but something caught my attention. A flash of movement in the corner of my eye. As a stupid, mindless, curious child I looked over to see what it was, an action I'm not proud to say I'd do even today. As I expected there was nothing there, just the line of tree's. Although there was an unfamiliar color, almost a white bobbing in front of the tree. Being the curious person I was I slowly made my way over to it. I got closer and it started to form a shape, a shape that made my chest drop. The feeling of heavy-chested fear overwhelmed me before I could make out what it was, my imagination was already coming up with an answer. I continued for a few more minutes and stopped in my tracks. I wanted to run. I would've given anything to be home at this moment. My dog died a few months back from this point. It's body should have been decomposed but here its mangled body was hanging from the tree bobbing back and forth. It's body was in the exact condition as it was on the day I found it. I stood there uselessly for a moment before I heard a crack in the brush below. My eyes quickly locked onto the familiar yellow eyes. The eyes slowly faded, and my vision darkened. From what I remember I woke up in the hospital. I supposedly hit my head off a rock and was knocked out cold. The dog wasn't mentioned, I kept it to myself. I turned my head down to see the clock, I wanted to know the time. I wanted to know, and remember what time I died, just in case there was any after life. The clock read 2:47 AM. It was a strain on my eyes to try to read the clock from here. I never could understand why everyone hasn't switched over to digital for the ease of use. I could hear the abomination, The Scritch, skittering around the floor occasionally. It seemed to move in bursts. I was ready and waiting for my death, although it seemed to be here for the show.
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