Ficlets

Twisted Vision

“Action!” cried the…... director
I was strapped to a long table that was being lowered towards the water. They dressed me as a clown, my face was painted and there were two hooks stretching my mouth into a twisted smile. No matter how much I cried it wouldn’t matter. The recorded laughter echoed through the wearhouse. The water started sumburging the table. I began to panic.
“I live for the realism.” said the director.
I squirmed against my bonds and the hooks cut into the inside of my cheeks. I then noticed that the hooks could possibly be not to make me smile but to hold my mouth open when I went under.
“Why me.” I thought to myself.

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