I retrace my steps. Couch to kitchen to couch. Think, pause tv, open the fridge, open the cupboard, sit on couch, press play.
He's coming, I can hear the car. Quick, you have to be quick. Clean, store away, hide.
It wasn't him, good. Bathroom now. Back to couch.
I can smell it, I can taste it, I can't handle it. Back to kitchen, back to couch. Why must I always be so careless in revealing open scars?
My head is floating. My eyes slide upwards from their sockets and lodge on the front part of my brain. My chest is hollow, dark bird cage for dead pets. Shut your eyelids, sew them together with magic markers.
Can you hear it now? No, not the ticking of the clock or the sound of the air vent. No, not the truck passing on the streets. This is listening to the ocean without a seashell. This is realising the world only exists in your mind.
You can change now. In this moment you can be anything, do anything. You are invincible, or as invincible as mist can be.
My soul floats away from the floorboards and it happens to quickly it's dizzying, I almost can't catch it. I'm humming a perfect tune of risen ashes and it sings me in slumber every night.
Do you see it? Does it happen to you too?
YOU ARE READING
Dust
Teen FictionIn Kellin's world the truth is a flimsy thing that's hard to get hold of. Mostly when you have been lying to yourself for years, to the point where you erase all sorts of memories. "Nothing happened", " you are fine", "it's all in your head". And wh...
