madlymaggie
Stories are what the old woman told. She had many, decades worth of gossip and drama. She opened he mouth and the room would fall silent. She never repeated herself, every story was something different.
On the metro, I see a young man walk on. His headphones in, bumping his head to the music. All of a sudden, a man beside him erupts into a roar and throws a machete in the ceiling.
She's a creature of the night. She's comes to you in the darkness and breathes upon your ear. She sings a song of despair only you can hear. No one can answer the question she asks but you, in the darkest night.