A Story (Gasp!)

Wow it's been a while, well since it's Halloween i thought I would just contribute something at least
Please Enjoy;
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Room
The room had been cast in shadow, with only a hint of the outside sky's pink haze seeping through the closed shutters- battered wood panels sparingly covered by flaking paint.
The throbbing of an old heater could be heard, muffled, sounding like the decaying house's moaning heart.
"Where is the Light?"
He scarcely saw the point in this
I sat in an old, battered arm chair, one of those that has a design somewhat assimilar to a pin cushion- buttons pounded in to make round-coned crevasses in the back rest, giving the doughy leather a soft, almost cloud-like look (you'd just be absorbed by it, and float in it's passive embrace), when in reality they were as stern as stones. Bits of the brown-wine hide had gone and left white patches of sewn string, which would lend the chair a certain thrift-chic outside of the devastated house.
The Chair was faced towards the door, so when it opened the outside light of the hall would strike my pale, hollowed face before unveiling my faded black attire.
I'm not mourning, well not for anyone I know at least, but confrontation is a good, if hypocritical, first impression for me, before the willowy personality I inhibit becomes glaringly apparant.
People never forget their first impression.
This way I can save myself from being vulnerable
or even hurt.
I hoped I'd look like a ghostly floating head, Like a beheaded heathen from some forgotten time
I notice that beheaded ghosts are always portrayed with just their headless yet animated corpse, shuffling aimlessly. Why do we never see just a floating head? Is it some belief that our hearts contain our souls? That our own psyche and ideals are not even related or connected to our incorporal essence? Could it be logic is for procrastination and an indicator of a weak soul? While those of heart are chosen leaders of men or just merely lucky?
It could just be, to digress, that it's gorier
-Oh what is that? Oh it's bowed! Ewh! severed trachea, sliced spine Arghh!-
A severed head is far more terrifying with some splashes of imagination - hanging bundles of arteries and veins looking like weightless nooses swaying in the breeze, the faint whistle of air against the vocal chords as it spoke, and of course those dead eyes- bleached with horror, lob-sided and struggling to focus as if battling brain damage or a fracturing psyche.
I sat in silence, figuring out what to say. When I did, it meant nothing to him.
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This is ones of my better ones I think
It's still a bit shit but enjoyable at least