imagineworkshop
She left the test unanswered. She couldn't face the humiliation. She'd rather turn in a blank test than turn in one that would come back scribbled in red marks, loudly proclaiming everything she didn't know.
She couldn't develop an appropriate response. The truth seemed too distant in her fuzzy mind, yet the only lie dangling on the edge of her lips left a bitter taste in her mouth. The obvious solution is to just say anything - the first thing to come to mind. She had stayed silent far too long to be taken seriously anyway.
As she sang, her vocal cords jumped an octave randomly. It was as natural as could be, despite it being a sound that only canines should be able to hear. But she continued on like nothing was wrong because to her, she could never be wrong when it came to music. She wasn’t producing the noises coming from her lungs; she was letting them flow through her like a human stereo.
The crook of his nose was an unwelcoming sight. He was a very crooked man from his nose to his smile to his stance, and even to his shirt collar which was slightly off center. Sadly, she had to ignore his mischievous glare and accept his invitation into his rundown house. No matter how uncomfortable she felt, she had a job to do.
The tall, thin man approached the little girl with his tentacles stretched wide. His black suit was surprisingly quiet as he slithered along the creaky wood floor. The little girl with pig tails, absently playing with her dolls, was unaware of the pale, no faced creature that is about to sneak up behind her and consume her for his late night snack. Little girls were his favorite.
She walked into the man's office, unsure of what will actually happen. The investigator was sitting in his spiny chair behind his desk; the spitting image of a classical Sherlock Holmes - hat, pipe, and all. She looked at him a bit strangely before taking a seat in the empty chair in front of her. Time to finally shake off her "admirer".
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