There she was, sitting by the fence.
Those cold black eyes.
The neighbours ghost they said.
She never left the garden. They say.
Every day after school scuffed feet, dirty uniforms and pale white skin.
There she was sitting by the fence.
With those cold black eyes.
I hated her. I hated her so badly.
I wanted to tear her eyes out each time, gorging them out, fingers spilling with blood, puke and skin.
if only to escape those ever knowing eyes. "Get away!" I would shriek. Screaming uselessly till the sun dipped red and my throat stinging with a rawness endless cries could provide. .
It's so absurd! Friends laughed.
Don't waste your time with such a strange girl!
If only, I chuckle dryly, coarse with overuse.
If only it were that simple.
And soon it was winter.
Harsh and cold, crisp and sterile as it always was.
I stood by the fence, face flushed from the cold, aching for warmth. Body numb from the cold. With a breath as cold as ice, and skin as pale as the snow. I breathe, gazing into the distance, with those cold black eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Drabbles
SonstigesJust a short stories with drabbles and possible prompts. Basically me trying to get over my writing block. And try something new and less straining.
