Before Bed

A blurbie I actually wrote from the gut of my brain a day or two ago about a boy named Lamar and his unexpected encounter as he prepares for bed.

Eleven o' clock struck wearily from the grandfather clock looming in the corner of the den as Lamar's mouth burst with a yawn. He cut the yawn short to rub wetness from the corners of his eyes and tilted his head lazily to the sofa on which he sat, mentally wracking his brain for the whereabouts of the television remote. Late-night sitcoms murmured secrets to him on the screen maybe eight feet in front of him, just soft enough for him not to hear. Faded lights of transitioning scenes flashed around in the dark of the room as he gave up on his mental search for the remote and stood and shuffled lightly to his bedroom. The TV can keep me company, he thought.

Lamar shrugged out of his daytime clothing and into a pair of drawstring sweatpants before making his way to the washroom, his tongue shifting about inside of his mouth to keep his quickly drifting mind alert just long enough to get his teeth brushed and face washed. Finding the door with his eyes, however, he stopped. Light shone through the crack beneath the door. He hadn't forgotten to turn off the lights earlier in the day, had he? As he continued his sleepy approach, the sound of skin against clothing and the stumbling of feet became almost audible. After faltering once again, Lamar messily wiped a hand across his face, taking a deep breath. M'just tired, he tried to convince himself.

He opened the door, eyes meeting a light trail of half-dried blood that led and accumulated at the washroom sink, accompanied by items such as scissors, a small kitchen scalpel, and thread. Lamar's eyes followed along the far wall of the washroom, where more fresh blood smeared against the wall bled up and out the back window, open and letting in the gentlest of night breezes. Lamar's hands trembled as he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, pulled out a cell phone, and in a bottled, manic fit, dialed the police.

Author's Note

I'll be honest, I might pull this thing and make a plot line out of it. It would seem fit. Dunno what possessed me to write something so brief, but it happened.
I have an idea as to who the bloody culprit is, too.
But that's a story for a later date, I suppose.