stevencash
Amy's lips were chapped.
She stood out on the cold Chicago streets, waiting for a cab to pick her up and take her back home.
"God," she thought, "There aren't many people up at 2am, eh?"
She turned around, thinking she heard a noise. She quickly dismissed it and pulled out a stick of lip balm.
"You waiting for someone?" a voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a man with a knife and a wicked smile.
She was never heard from again.
This is the sound of a heartbeat
This is the sound from the discontented mouths
Of a holy nation
We are the voice of breaking down
Can you hear me?
This is the sound of the desperation bound
By our own collision
We are the voice of breaking down
-The Sound, by Switchfoot
The shot made her nearly jump out of her skin.
Alyson Barlow was trembling with fear, the sound of her breathing the only thing audible over her heart slamming against her ribcage. She leapt out of bed and ran down the hallway towards her parent's bedroom.
There she found her mom standing over the limp figure of her father, a smoking gun in her hand.
Like a graceful, beautiful white swan Ashley danced across the stage, twirling to her heart's content. The music pounded in her ears as she leapt backwards and forwards, dancing, dancing, dancing. It was all she ever wanted.
Too bad it was only a dream.
Jessica stood at the edge of the pond, in awe of the majestic snow white swan that fluttered over her head and came to a peaceful rest in the center of the water.
"Oh my God," she breathed, her bird loving self coming to the surface, "She's so beautiful!"
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