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One two. Stairs, like an endless, spiral. There are four birds in the window, making noises that sound almost human. Maybe there are souls trapped inside. Maybe there are empty souls *outside*. Maybe all those birds–all four, with their beady little eyes–are like jars, and the rest of everyone is sitting in their shell, under a shade of hair. Maybe all those dead people milling around gave their spirits wing, and just their bodies are still waiting.

Posted By SheWhoKnows On 07.31.2011 @ 8:37 am

There was always that one song, the one that wafted so carelessly over the water. As if trailed in the wake of some forgotten boat, long drifting over the sand. But she wasn’t near the water now. She wasn’t even under the sky. She was in her house, locked behind a handful of cabinets, listening to the bass thrum through the plumbing and pipe work. And she could still hear it. Coming closer. Ever closer. But only when the faucet turned on.

Posted By SheWhoKnows On 06.03.2011 @ 6:50 pm

Black and sleek. Four windows up front, un-tinted. She peered out–great blue eyes like stars above,punching holes in the ceiling and opening wider and wider. Long lashes batting on moth’s wings.

And the carpet stretched out far too far, like some velvety tongue. Up to the center of the building, or so she thought. And she had to wonder if those doors would swallow her once she walked in, or if she would find them wanting to embrace her. Motherly.

Posted By SheWhoKnows On 06.03.2011 @ 8:19 am

That’s what she was riding in, sleek, black–hair all up on her neck, and those light jewels on her ears. No one wanted to touch her–to taint her. She was there, and then she was gone. Stretched as far as the eye could see, under a boundless sky of empty stars.

She left a pair of cufflinks on the carpet. They whistled; glistened. Diamonds of the night sky, fallen from heaven. Resting on the tip of a pillow; buried in the dusk of the dirt. Wandering idly until they vanished.

Posted By SheWhoKnows On 06.02.2011 @ 5:53 pm