wip

eyes like wildfires

Arwen walked down the side walk, it was night. The sky seemed more grey then it was black, and if you stopped walking you could momentarily hear some sort of disturbance. It wasn't really something you could hear - but like something you could sense. A disturbance. Arwen's stomach twisted and turned, feeling like fire was clawing at their insides. They felt sick.

Arwen was looking down at the concrete, like they normally do. Every time Arwen looked at someone else they couldn't stand to look into their eyes - every time they did it felt like they had dropped from the top of a rollercoaster. Their stomach would just drop. And their brain felt like someone had crossed it out in thick, black sharpie. They felt like they could hear every time the person's eyes called for help, never receiving an answer. They could read their insides. They hated it.

Luckily they had music though. It scrubbed the darkness from their brain clean. It made walking in the dark (or rather, grey) night back home at least a little more tolerable.

Arwen had just moved, like their family normally does. They never stopped in each town taking their time to get to know it or it's people, because their family moved constantly. They had been used to the pattern - until everything was one merge of the sky grey - and days were each the same. One big, encompassing circle of dread.

But this time... wasn't temporary. Now that's something that ,even if temporarily, had left an opening in the circle. They were definitely not used to this. Not that it made a difference, considering absolutely no one had talked to them the whole month they had been there. Kids called them "weird" because they could never make eye contact. Weird is so cliché.

           they all had eyes like wildfires.

           tongues like barbwire.

            whispers like knives.

Maybe things were really going to be the same in this small town.