letra de death, the only promise - tzc
the boy didn’t know what to think. he was silent. the room was silent
after a long pause, dude 1 gives the boy a look of regret.. kinda like “i’m sorry” as he raises his gun
gunshots
the boy was now standing in a white room. it was too white. towards the opposite end of the room was a man. it was morgan freeman. maybe that was just the boy’s idea of god. either way, morgan freeman was there
god: make yourself at home!
maybe it was a joke because the room was empty besides morgan freeman’s chair and a computer in the corner. the boy stood. silent
god: do you know who i am?
the boy: morgan freeman?
god: well, i guess if that’s how you see me, then that is who i am. do you know where you are?
the boy: it looks like an office sp-ce for a sh-tty 9 to 5. but i don’t judge. i think that’s your job
god: -chuckles- you’re lucky i like you
he stood from his chair which seemed to be an office chair. one of the ones that roll. those were always fun to spin in. he walked over to the boy until they were face to face. the boy didn’t move. god leaned forward to say something in the boy’s ear
god: roscoe’s wetsuit
that moment, the boy woke up in his bed in the mansion in a cold sweat. nauseous. he began to scratch his arm furiously as he rolled to put both feet on the floor. he sat. just to think about what just happened. the series of events that took place in what he thought was real life, more confused than ever before. he looked down to see the brown recluse crawling on the floor
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