Silence. As deafening as ones own thoughts. It hung in the room waiting for permission to break. Along with it, a musty smell dominated the air and consumed his senses. Dust obscured his vision while the moths fluttered throughout the chamber. Before him, a box. Old, rustic straps gripped the neglected object. Dipped at the top, begging years of gravity for mercy. Regardless of the abstinence and temptation he was submerged in, he approached the box. At this point, he was accustomed to the smell and dirt that preoccupied his mind, and focused on his prize ahead. A key beside it lay ignorant of its worth. Slowly, his hand wrapped around it and brought it to the box. A perfect fit! The lid lifted with a squeak, however, what his eyes saw left him speechless.
~Eris~
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Descriptive boldness
Poetryhere's where the question 'is she ok?' comes into play. see here a little collection of all the descriptions and mini-stories i write in my free time as well as in school. enjoyyyyy. Eris xx
