I'm updating...
So that Emma will.
I had a good day today...um. I really am bad at updating, and I don't want to spam, so I'm posting a story about ghosts.
Fear walks soundlessly into a room, trailing behind her a cloak of icy air. Her hair is water thrown in shadow, rippling in a wind all her own. It is dull and dead, not shiny, not smooth. Here eyes are bottomless and have a malice that flickers deep down in the blackness. An ebony flame that stares into, stares through. Her skin is the color of death, pale, cold, clammy. Tinged with gray fog. She sits alone, in the back of the room. Avoided, ignored, forgotten-until nightfall because it is then when the irrational and sensible notions become one, when thoughts wander, unbidden, to the pale girl in the back, always staring, always staring. Her hoarse voice whispers, penetrates, unlocks the doors of the mind where nameless horrors reside, straining against the chains that the mind binds them with. She owns them, she made them, she coaxes them out of their chains and unleashes them into the dark corners of the room. Waiting, watching. Her dusty eyes see deep into the souls of people and she is nobody’s friend.
Bum bum bum
I had a good day today...um. I really am bad at updating, and I don't want to spam, so I'm posting a story about ghosts.
Fear walks soundlessly into a room, trailing behind her a cloak of icy air. Her hair is water thrown in shadow, rippling in a wind all her own. It is dull and dead, not shiny, not smooth. Here eyes are bottomless and have a malice that flickers deep down in the blackness. An ebony flame that stares into, stares through. Her skin is the color of death, pale, cold, clammy. Tinged with gray fog. She sits alone, in the back of the room. Avoided, ignored, forgotten-until nightfall because it is then when the irrational and sensible notions become one, when thoughts wander, unbidden, to the pale girl in the back, always staring, always staring. Her hoarse voice whispers, penetrates, unlocks the doors of the mind where nameless horrors reside, straining against the chains that the mind binds them with. She owns them, she made them, she coaxes them out of their chains and unleashes them into the dark corners of the room. Waiting, watching. Her dusty eyes see deep into the souls of people and she is nobody’s friend.
Bum bum bum