blackflamingo777
The ticking of the clock reverberates in the empty, echoing space between her ears like the thrumming of a bass guitar turned to maximum. Somewhere off in the distance she is thinking; weighing and measuring and calculating and debating; she can feel the words coming out of her mouth, see the reactions and responses of her peers; yet all she can hear is the clock slowly running out of time for everyone.
"ou...ther..?...see...an't...miss..."
The radio burst to life with a heavy crunch of static. The message was a garbled mess, but somebody had heard her! Hope and relief she had not dared to allow before blossomed in her chest.
She would finally be going home.
Allana spins slowly on her heel, eyes roving around the room and its endless supply of ticking clocks. Some are beautifully finished, brass and silver glittering in the patchy, filtered light; some are in a variety of pieces, winding gears exposed to the open air.
Every breath is a struggle. Every shaking, shuddering inhale is a battle in a horrific war you're loosing. Why can't it just be over?
He meticulously straightens every piece of cutlery, running systematically from right to left all around the table. Everyone stands in a huddle by the kitchen half-wall watching wide-eyed. When did they ever go to so much effort for anything?
This had gone far beyond "putting their best foot forward" and fully into the realm of "pretend we're civilized people (that we're not)" How was this supposed to be an honest representation of them?
"I think you've got everything covered..."
"No! We need napkins. Real ones! Not paper towels!"
Maybe, he had lost sight of the forest through all the trees.
"No! Not the pepper, there's no pepper tonight!"
"But Alex!"
"No buts! Everything has to be perfect. I want to make a good impression and you're going to help me do it!"
Even through glassy eyes she can see the blood streaked clouds and marvel at the beauty of her dying day.
And then she smiled; a crooked, fleeting, fragile thing and I knew I would do anything she ever asked--and more, much more--as simple as that.
She stands in the middle of a whirlwind; air buffeting against her face until her cheeks are rosy and her eyes squint. She wavers back and forth in the currents, but her feet remain planted on this land she will fight for.
There's nothing like the feeling when it all clicks into place. When you and I align like stars and the light shines on our face.
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writing since 2013 · 53 entries · 51 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Saya showed up.
5longest streak
51days written
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the words Saya reaches for
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