Hi everyone,

I have decided as a way of motivating (or I guess possibly demotiving) myself into writing more often I am going to share some short stories with you all. Art is useless if it's only viewed by the artist (even if it's really bad art).

This first one is still in progress, so I've decided to post it in serial chapter form. I would love to hear any good honest feedback. Also I am posting this with very minimal editing so be kind on the grammar and spelling.

Thanks and Enjoy:
Too The Teeth part 1

Frank awoke in a mustard yellow haze. The room slowly coming into focus was set in the low contrast grays that only exist in that time between sunset and actual night. The rattling buzzing noise that he had thought was just an annoying part of his dream continued into wakefulness. Frank rolled sideways in the chair trying to locate the source of the noise. The vinyl of the chair squeaked below his arm as he slowly painfully rolled towards his side. His head was pounding, throbbing deep in the back of his neck. Frank had only had a few migraines in his life but he remembered them well enough to know that one was setting in. He thought to himself, "Better cancel any plans for tonight". As he realized he didn't know if he did have plans tonight, or what night tonight was, or even where he was right now. But none of that mattered, at least not until he could find and remove the source of the awful noise.

Now fully on his side, he was able to see the cause of the noise, lying on the black and white checkered board tile. At first he thought it was one of those electric toothbrushes, but as his still muddy vision cleared he realized that it was a dentist's drill digging little paths into the supposed-to-be-friendly-but-still-very-clinical tiled floor. As he reach his left arm over to grab the drill and stop it he shifted and toppled the stainless steel tray that was still balanced on the taupe color trolley, knocking it to floor with a clattered that sent his headache from pulsing to screaming. Frank vomited burning yellow full bile onto the side of the dentist chair and the drill below. Still retching, doubled over, he fell out of the chair causing the heavy trolley to roll into the cabinets across the room with a thud.

Frank pulled himself into a sitting position using the arm of the chair he had just fallen out of, slipping once on the bile he had deposited on the arm wrest. He wasn't sure if he could stand. He realized that the buzzing had stopped, and that it had gotten dark while he was being sick on the floor. Frank pulled himself up to standing, wobbled a little but kept his balance. He looked around for a sink, and spotted it next to trolley he had tipped over. He walked over to the sink, filled one of the paper cups, drank from it, and then spit it back into the sink. He left the water running to get cold; cupping his hand below the stream he used them to splash his face. More alert now, Frank had become aware that something was dried to the left side of his face. Moving his jaw back and forth he could feel it restraining the skin from flexing. Frank brushed his fingers across his face from is lips to the back of his head feeling the crusty substance flake off and fall from it. He tried to push his fingers through his hair and realized that the substance was clotted and clogged in it, still gooey in parts. He looked at his hand, and in the low light it looked like it was cover in dirty oil. Frank walked to the window and put his hand under the yellow shaft of iridescent light cast by the street lamp. Horrified but not surprised Frank was now sure it was blood. He felt his face, his neck his ears, the back of his head for a cut, not finding any. He tried to reach down the neck of his t-shirt to check his chest and shoulders, only to find that was stuck to his body. He slowly pealed it away him, trying not pull any more chest hairs than was necessary. He felt his check his shoulders his back, nothing no wounds, nothing. Frank turned to look at the dentist's chair he had been in. The young dental tech that Frank had considered asking out was slumped, legs spread like a child's doll in the corner of the room. He followed the line of her foot to cuff of her pale blue scrubs, up to her hips and her blood soaked top. Her face seemed to be cover by shadow. Frank walked closer telling himself that she was just asleep, unconscious like he had been. When he got to where the chair was he realized that the reason he couldn't see her face was that she no longer had one.

Frank's body miraculously found more bile to throw up...