Chips of paint flaking off the old wooden stairs, leading to the safe room. A pale white bone knife pressed hard against skin. Alone alone alone. One voice, one mind. Empty streets and empty homes, dusty welcome mats bordering the locked doors. Flickering lights and haunting screams tell of the danger that lurks in the dark. The light brings the quiet and the loneliness.
YOU ARE READING
Dreamories
RandomMy dreams tend to vary from weird to weirder. And no two are alike. These are some of the things I wrote right when I woke up.
