fraughtwithsparkles
The place had a modern feel to it. Chic, and white, and generally quite intimidating, but there was no doubt that this was a state-of-the-art science laboratory. She took it all in, in awe of all of the pointy, pretty, shiny things she'd wanted to play with but had never gotten the chance to. They were all here, and now she would have the chance to mess around with /all/ of them
the rope loosened in her fingertips, coarse hemp rubbing against barely wrinkled skin. she pulled as tightly as she could, tugging viciously until it came loose, and with a relieved sigh let it drop to the ground.
She understood absolutely nothing. Absolutely nothing, and she was to be examined tomorrow, and really she should know it all by now - but she knew nothing, and she was terrified, and she wanted to do nothing more than curl into a ball and clutch her stuffed toy to her chest. And she still knew nothing.
The festival was beautiful. Bright lights were strung up from stalls, where vendors were calling people to buy cotton candy, or to play a game. Children were giggling, running about in costumes, a joyful spark in their eyes. Every few meters someone was bursting into laughter at a joke made by a friend. The night sky was peppered with the scent of street-food, and the atmosphere was lively and warm.
It was painful, really. She knelt down, fingers scraping lightly over the ground. The movement caused shards of glass to clink together far too merrily, and she drew back, worried she might get hurt. The town had been reduced to a wasteland in less than the blink of an eye: this is what happened when people let fear overrule their compassion for life.
Desolate. The landscape was desolate. Acres of barren, empty land stretched out before her; generations of cultivation and hard work and love put into the earth beneath her feet wiped away within an hour. All that was left was rock and rubble.
Cute. Cute was a strange way to put it. Cute was associated with flowers and giggling girls with ponytails tied together with polka-dot bows. Cute wasn't bloodstained cheeks and bloodshot eyes with streaks of scarlet dripping from clothes. But then again, they'd never been ones to use textbook definitions.
writing since 2014 · 8 entries · 7 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Ruchika showed up.
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the words Ruchika reaches for
cutenightflowersgigglingeyesdesolategroundplayabsolutelynowchancesupposedpuppiescutermoviewatched