Six days he writes,hand moving,moving side to side,smudging ink;tatooing his flesh blue,black,dirtying his hand.
He writes pristine mechanic script in a leather bound journal;it is thin,half an inch thick:black.His hand is small and hairliss,with fingers long and finger nails sharp and pitted.
He rests on the seventh day;his body is dead and decaying,little bits of his face have fallen of and lie on the rooms carpeted floor.he rests hoping that his writing hand does not fall into bits.the whole of his other hand has already fallen of and now lies still,unmoving on his desk.
He moves his writing hand gingerly,and the pinky and thumb of that hand falls of;sigh of dead air from the corpses lips and his last will leaves him and his body falls into seven pieces,tumbling,landing,lieing scattered on the floor.
"damn, I am finished",the decapited corpses head thinks,"I cannot finish my story."
"SIGH",from his lips and he lies still on the cellar floor.
"dear me"the journal thinks,the hand has left me,"I must finish myself".
"sigh", from dry pages and the journal finishes the story.
"hurrah",the deccapitated corpses head congratulates.
"we are finished", the corpses head state to his journal .
"let us rest"
"indeed"
"i concure"
And they rested content.





the end.