It was cold and dark when I came back to the rugged and deserted town. I felt like a ghost against the wind and as I reached my hands up to pull on my hood, I realized that I may was well have been one.
This place is meant for the dead. It's lonely and it cries, shrieks, and even moans. In the darkness this town is a monster.
Going up the street death and shadows breathe into my skin. The bleached light of the moon melts onto my flesh and the dimming lamp light shows the end of the road.
I don't know why I'm returning to you. I can't understand my own body, my brain is not in this. Yet I jumped in that cab and I'm trudging through this monstrous town at 12 am. The yellow lines in the road guide me like thread in a minotaur's maze. My head is fuzzy and I feel lost, but I know where I am. I'm coming to meet her again.
And then I arrive. Her new home is freezing and unfurnished. If you were to count anything there as furniture, the closest things would be the tombstones. They are scattered everywhere in her graveyard home. Hers isn't special. It's like the others in every aspect. Except, there are no flowers or notes or anything for her, because no one remembers.
I remember.
I miss you.
Here Lies
Anna S. Jackson
1986 - 2002
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Dead Lips
Tiểu Thuyết ChungA story about a girl who decided to leave the world a little to soon, and the boy who couldn't stand being left behind. --------- A bunch of little pages of words strewn together. Updated sporadically.
