(no subject)
[ There's a girl in the middle of the cemetery. She's a stark change from the low, grey sky. Dull--the grass, the path, the grey, grey tombstones with the deep-set letters. But this girl, she's bright white and polished. Inhuman.
She stands up from the grave she's at, dusts herself off and bows to you as she leaves. You can tell she isn't human. It's obvious by the shape of her; by her lack of shoulders and hips and feet. And despite the impossibility... you think there are tears down her face. ]
She stands up from the grave she's at, dusts herself off and bows to you as she leaves. You can tell she isn't human. It's obvious by the shape of her; by her lack of shoulders and hips and feet. And despite the impossibility... you think there are tears down her face. ]