So here we are again

This is a story I’ve been playing with for a while, But I want some feedback on how to improve it. Its sorta wierd, but hope you enjoy! ^^ ~Critchy~ ^^

So here we are again, Driving to another theatre in another part of London, with the set and props and costume in a big lorry behind us. London, its a funny old place, Full of the most amazing, talented and smart individuals, if only they had the time to talk to each other, who knows world peace might be sorted by now. Huh, I better explain who I am, I’m Donny, male, young, blue topaz eyes with charcoal black hair, not to thin but nowhere near fat, and as you may have guessed, I’m an actor. So why am i tied to to the back of a car with nothing on but a nappy? Well thats a strange lil story that I’d like to tell you, if you care to listen.

A deserted ally. Night. Full moon. No stars. Blackness. A crash here, A boom there, And suddenly I’m running for my life. No where to hide, No one to comfort, just row after row of high-rise buildings and allyways. The Darkness is pre-trailing, the air is getting thicker. Another turn. Allyway. Building. Footsteps. Stamp. Stamp. Stamp. Turn. Allyway. Building. Footsteps. Stamp. Stamp… crash. Shit! theres blood dripping around me, And the darkness Pre-trailing,

Donny! Donny!, Wake up Donny!"

I jump and wake in a panic as the image fades and the room slowly twirls into vision. There in front of me is John, with a worried look on his face, and shaking my shoulder, telling me to wake up. I feel something cold and uncomfortable under the sweated duvets that I’m lieing on.
“Ah shit, I’ve wet myself again,” I cried to John, Why must I always have this preceding dream that wont let me remain a young adult at night?

“Hey don’t worry man, Im sure you’ll get better, because you can’t look any worse!” John laughed in his friendly Caribbean accent. I shoved him in boyish charm. I watched John leave and then grumbled at the thought of having to clean up for yet another night, but the show must go on, and I need to prepare myself for Macbeth, Bluddy Macbeth.

Were on the road, speeding down the motorway heading for London, London the place of dreams and anxiety. As the car picks up speed, I swirl into the black submission known as nightmares. The road vanishes before my eyes.

A figure. Tall. Broad. Silhouetted. Leaning. Crawling. Preying. Dripping. Sweat. No noise to shout. No air to breath. Blood rising. Tower buildings collapsing. Open field engaging. Breathing. Panting. Warm moisture. Saliva. Blood. Pain. Ever growing pain.

Screams filled the air as I was disturbed from the disturbed, The car was going faster now than ever before, The screams got louder, but all I could concentrate on was the wetness on my seat.
“Shit I’ve wet myself again”

Black, a thousand people all looking at me, and then the light came on and I belted my first line like it was the last thing I would ever say. A powerful speech but I was hardly engaged, as two little voices were screaming inside

“Your going to mess it up! Its going too well! Mess up go on!”

“Oh why dont you piss off! Hes doing great! Keep going Donny keep going!”

I looked into the audience, and I saw this kid looking at me, not in awe but desperation, for me to end. I was in the moment, like I’d never been before, I jumped off the stage and talked to him, engaged with him make him see what I could see.

Inside head. Howls. Laughter. Scratching. Clawing. Killing. Pain. Blood. Air a burden. Open eye. Kid. Small. Thin. To Thin. Bleached hair. Emerald eyes. Evil.
He bites my neck, and bites my veins. And all the blood drains away. Down his throat.

So here we are again. Me tied to the back of a car with a wet nappy on, screaming for bloodlust and screaming for sanity but as silent as the grave. On the way to another theatre, in London, a place of misery and pain. Just a puppet made to perform, night after night, and rehearse day after day. With just the blood. Dripping. Maroon.