cottia
The bars on the phone blink limply up at you. You stare, hoping for the signal to last, for the battery to give you one more crucial second, desperately scrabbling to make contact with someone else in this barren, dead, world. 'Hello?' you whisper, empty into the void. 'Hello?' But there is nothing, and no one. 'Hello?'
Step into the translucent box. The platform is wobbly and you almost lose your balance, but you hardly notice because after a few spare seconds you are whisked away into an entirely different dimension. One where things are upside down and backwards and you never have to think about whether you've eaten because you're inside out anyway. It's nicer there. Calmer.
She pulled off the cherry red hat and looked at it thoughtfully. No, it wasn't right. Not for tonight. It was just a bit too feminine, just a touch of too much whimsy. Then, looking around, she spotted it. There, just behind the horrible watered silk. The hat. Her hat.
"don't put too much ice cream in please." I'm watching my weight. I'm always watching it. It never leaves me, this haunting. Am I too big? Can you see my bones? Will I ever be as pretty as her? The shame, the guilt, the throwing up and the starvation...
the touch of his hand is like velvet. and it slides down your cheek and you do not know if you should stop it or caress him in turn. but the velvet is hard and crusted underneath wetness and you cannot revel in the sensation. you must turn, retching, and vomit out his stench, and cleanse yourself of his parasite.
who knows what flotsam can be found here?
wander, take a look.
is it sea glass, or just broken beer bottles?
spare change or buried dubloons?