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as odd as it my seem, i have nothing to add today, so i am putting in a piece from one of my books. it's only a few paragraghs of the prologue, but still...
She ran down the corridor, tears crusted to her face. Her voice had failed her long ago, her legs ached, her lungs burned, and the thought ‘keep running, keep running!’ cycled through her head, over and over. Her vision was blurred, her nightgown tattered and hanging limply about her small frame. She was simply and purely afraid.
The corridor was long and dark, the windows shut for the night. The dark blue paint that looked so friendly in the day now only seemed black and cruel. The potted plants that rested between each ten-foot-tall window were dead and their pots were knocked to the floor, broken and clumped with dirt. The long tables that lined the opposite wall looked to be over a hundred years old. With no one there to take care them, they had splintered and gathered dust. Webs connected the tables to the wall behind them. One table near the middle had broken a leg under it’s own weight and now rested against the wall. The floor was tile, with a light blue carpet stretched over it from one door to the other. The tiles were broken, some even shattered. The carpet was a mess; it’s edges were torn.
She passed the half way point, she thought, and her mind began to ease a bit. But just as she allowed herself a moment to relax, a fierce, loud, monstrous roar echoed from behind her, shaking the floor beneath her feet. Off balance, she toppled to her left, hitting one of the closed windows harshly. The latch shook, breaking under the new weight, and the rusted hinges not far behind. She fell to the floor, one of the shutters landing on top of her.
 Shaalal Regate Vice · Sat May 31, 2008 @ 01:20pm · 0 Comments |
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