nitronicky
Music flows from the room, a steady stream of notes that causes emotions to burst within me. Walls break, shields are thrown aside. I cry as the cheesy feeling of sentiment washes over me. I see my mum in my eyes, smiling up at me, playing this exact song on the piano. Tentatively, I push open the door, not entirely sure if I'm ready to see who the player is.
Everything around me is real, yet I am not real. I feel like a ghost, simply a presence floating around the lively crowds enjoying the grass between their toes and the feeling of the hot sun beating down on the park. I feel as alive as the cracked china dolls that sit on my bedside table. No one acknowledges my existence, therefore I am not real. I am fake.
The man who blends in with the night takes off into the darkness without a sound. The shadows are his home. No one knows of his existence, but he knows of theirs. He knows everyone. He sits in the alcoves, in the little nooks and crannies of the world you hadn't noticed, and he watches you. Stalks his prey. One day, he will attack. It would be fruitless to implore you to prepare, though, because he moves as stealthily as a ghost.
The man who blends in with the night takes off into the darkness. The shadows are his home. No one knows of his existence, but he knows of theirs. He knows everyone. He sits in the alcoves, in the little nooks and crannies of the world you hadn't noticed, and he watches you. Stalks his prey. One day, he will attack.
Everyone knows that forests hold the deepest secrets. Werewolves that howl at the moon, glowing fairies soundlessly lighting trails through the forest as they dance, and kisses to be forever forgotten. The forest is a treasure chest of secrets - a keyless chest. You just need to know how to find the secrets.
"Choisisez."
Huh? Choisi-what? I'm confused. My teacher babbles to me a foreign language. My mind is foggy, like the mist of a forest. Everyone is staring at me with piercing glares, and I don't like it at all. Please stop staring. Why can't they hear me asking them to stop? Why aren't they confused about the "chois-blah" comment? How come they understand? Where am I?
I choose you. Or do I choose you? Indecision envelops me like a cloud of violent thunder and rain, I am stuck, I can't see in this storm of possible decisions. Which way to go? Whom do I choose? No one knows but God. I am soaked to the bone by this thunderstorm. Someone please help me.
Sweep. Wipe. Dust. The mechanical movements bore him out of his mind. He can't understand how the daily grind can be so inescapable, so ensnaring in this neighbourhood. Nothing will make any of the inhabitants budge out of their robotic routines; it's like a clock made of diamonds - the clockwork can't be destroyed by anything other than itself. Eventually, the system will collapse in on itself, like a black hole.
You swept me away, with all your secretive glances and beautiful smiles that made my heart soar like a butterfly. You made me feel like I was the only girl in the world who mattered, until you stripped away your mask, and showed me what you were like. You showed that beneath the mask was simply a collection of devious lies, the most twisted of evil thoughts and a black, black heart.
She sits on the floor in an empty house, the ghosts floating around her. She can sense them, but not see them. The ghosts of her mistakes. Her whole body shudders with great sobs as she crouches in the pool of her dirty dress and she knows she will have to sweep the floor soon. What else is there to do?
writing since 2013 · 11 entries · 6 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Nicola showed up.
3longest streak
6days written
0.9entries / week
the words Nicola reaches for
sitsblackchooseforeststopsecretsexistencerealfloorghostsfloatingsweepbeautifulheartmasksimply