[ WP ] You wake up and see something that anyone else would describe as mundane , but causes you to be suspicious .

As soon as Paul woke up. He knew something was wrong. He quickly scanned the room, his eyes coming to rest on his aged mahogany desk. He knew that the small desk appeared perfectly normal, but there was a certain quality about it that aroused an intruding suspicion that Paul could not shake. 
 
 Paul had not paid this piece of furniture much attention in the past. It had always blended in to the backround, camouflaged by mediocrity. So why was this morning any different? For what reason did Paul have to suddenly spend hours scrutinizing this desk's very existence? 
 
 Paul could n't explain it. He sat there, mesmerized, chasing his mind around in circles, as if to force an answer to the surface. He was sure of it now, the desk appeared out of tune to its surroundings. The more he stared at it, the more glaringly obvious it became. Until Paul could no longer think or look at anything else. The desk now seemed to demand his attention, almost communicating something. 
 
 `` WHAT DO YOU WANT?'' Paul screamed at his desk. He seemed enraged at the lack of response and began working himself into a frenzy. With a depraved, manic determination, Paul began scratching off the polished surface, committed to uncovering the truth of this seemingly mundane piece of furniture. 
 
 Paul was well aware of the insanity this desk had infected him with. Thus making the solution obvious. He did n't waste time clearing off his meager belongings before flipping the desk on its back. Aided by the age and poor condition of the wooden joints, the four legs were prised from the body. The limbs were hastily jettisoned through a large nearby window. Crashing down at the pavement below. The desktop met a similar fate shortly after. 
 
 It was over, so it seemed. Paul, however, knew better by now. It was never over. He sat there, breathing heavily, hands slightly bloodied with splinters. He tried to take stock of his thoughts, but all he could think about was the aged mahogany desk that he awoke to. The image was burned into his mind. He could not escape. Clamping his eyes shut merely focused his attention on the picture. Who had done this to him? 
 
 Darkness settling outside, paul grabbed his bottle of pills from the floor and lay back on his bed. The medication finally offered Paul an oasic reflief from his hysteria. His eyes closed with a heavy finality as the image of the desk slowly faded from his mind.
