the delicate cobwebs that we steal from enraged spiders that we tear apart with uncut fingernails
“This is the third one this month,” said Finnea, her pale cheeks were tinted red. “I've gotten one every Friday so far.” She showed the letter to Kenna.
The endless potential of open space, the infinite mystery of a door.
Typo couldn't sleep. He tossed and rolled in bed. He tried fiddling with the temperature of the room, he tried sleeping with the blanket off and with the blanket on. He flipped his pillow over so much, neither side felt cold. Sweat dripped down his forehead.
It was exactly what they had said it would be. She stood in front of the sign. 'Wasteland: Do not enter' And under that, 'Population: 6'
Once upon a time there was a straight line And this straight line had a point on it And this point was getting quite tired of staying where she was
“I'm only dying metaphorically!” she shouted as they pushed her into the hospital on a stretcher. She could smell that characteristic hospital smell, the smell of failed attempts to hide evidence of pain: bleach and disinfectant. And some sort of air conditioner that probably claimed to be honey and lavender and pine scented but actually … Continue reading Defying Gravity