sagerox
The rains poured down like a biblical tempest. Every critter around crept into the house, made it feel even more crowded, the walls closing in as they swelled with the damp, her clammy forehead sticking to the air which was sticking to the walls, and everywhere an insect crawling in the corner.
We've heard plenty of tales like this since we entered the Fire Sands. Every crackpot with drool running down his chin wants us to go running after this pale child.
The graphics were amazing. It was a mountain terrain, ice covered outcroppings and stone temples. She sat on the bed and as watched as his hands flickered over the keys, clicking on screen. They didn't speak.
The snow is white as fleece, drifting through the air
the ground hard as bones beneath its blanket
and I wait for March to go out like a lion.
The food on the table is some sort of gourmet fake lamb shit. Sheila likes to think she's a vegan but she doesn't even like vegetables. Fake like her boobs and her smiles. Fakemother.
She lies nestled in a bundle of blankets, a weakling child who moves mountains of men, the light in her eyes speaks of stars and singing. Weak she may be to the wind and the rain but there is something within.
The record plays fuzzy saxophone, spinning around to a final click. Silence falls on the room like a black velvet curtain. A second click, but this time it's the hammer of a pistol.
A murder of crows caw in the tree outside my window. It seems they've just arrived. Nevertheless their presence does nothing to fill your absence; it is an irony in this world of constant comings and goings. I would not have traded you for the world.
"Swing!" She shouted, and all the dancers in the room shook off the bonds of elegance they had been wearing. Shivering into new motion, they twirled and jived, smiles sinking from formal poise to real coy grins, like a violin discovering it's really a fiddle.
The tide washed up to the sand, just flirting with the shells at the very edge, floating them up and dragging them down just a little ways before setting them down and rushing back out to the great wide ocean.
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writing since 2011 · 38 entries · 35 days shown up
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