jynxzd

It was late in the day and grey clouds hung in the heavy air. The humidity of the rumbling storm in the distance did nothing to lubricate the old creak of the swing as it slowed like a broken pendulum. But other than the gently squealing swing, the suburban neighborhood filled with silence. The well insulated walls and their faux stone facades muffled the carefree afternoon cartoons and the evening news stations that had not yet heard. How could they have known? Though no doubt it would still be proclaimed breaking news tomorrow morning when Mrs. Elliot would make her discovery while walking her arthritic schnauzer. But until then, the eleme

Attempt to Silence me by adamantly Pressing your hands to my throat while Hopelessly you fume with conviction; You tell me with vehemence that my Xanadu is nothing more than my Imagination, nothing more than A foolish notion of children That know nothing outside of stories, but I know that it is in stories that we know Of the human capacity to soar and Not only stifle.

A ballpoint pen dropped on the linoleum floor, and Harold felt himself shiver inside his skin. Underneath the cabinets in the office break-room, the p-trap of the sink drain pressed against his chest but was hardly comparable to the gnawing pressure on his heart, and he swore that the increasing speed of the sound of his pulse rose up into the sink basin like an amplifier. He could hear the trembling of his lungs with their shallow gasps as they forebode the coming of his former colleagues. They’d search here soon— driven by their insatiable hunger— the inhumane bastards. Trying to get rid of him, were they? He could always d

It’s quiet. Not even the air conditioner dared to rattle away and interrupt. Absent feet kept the floorboards from creaking and the air still. The comforting cool colored everything hues of indigo and the ocean. There was a foreboding quality to everything that was there, particularly the things that weren’t. The very emptiness seemed close; encroaching on the calm with an eerie, unseen turbulence that persisted even in the stagnancy. The anticipation of the empty room slowed even the meandering pace of a ladybug making its way across the sky on a picture window. It stopped, barely halfway across the pane, and didn’t hazard a

She was dirty. So dirty She could hardly remember the feeling of hot running water. Or what clean water even looked like. Her entire world had turned brown. Bleak The sky was always overcast— dust and rubble were everywhere. And now, even she was turning brown. The air was stagnant and the quiet stillness of everything around her sent a twinge in the core of her brain. Shaking her thin, tawny hair to jostle herself, she lifted up the grungy night gown, the only piece of clothing she could find that was in remotely wearable condition, and resumed stumbling over the cracked pavement of what used to pass for a street. Now it was all ur