Random...
It seemed as though the stars were fallowing her as she crept through the streets at midnight; her dress elegantly caressing her legs as it moved with the wind and her swaying hips. Her heels, as crimson as her dress, clicked as they hit the pavement making a rhythm that was almost music in the dimly lit street. Brown curls fell gracefully upon her face; a flawless complexion that seemed to glow brighter than the street lights did. Red lips quivered in the stillness of the world and blue uneasy eyes began to well up with tears. She continued on her journey to nowhere, listening to the distant laughter and slow tempo lyrics, while the woe in her eyes began to show in her face. A breeze passed by as her brow creased and her arms hugged her sides. She looked up at the sky, the stars, and the moon and stopped.
Looking back she saw the flashing lights that illuminated all different colors inside the house, from purple to blue to pink to red then randomly to green and all over again. The music began to speed up and she saw the shadows in the window skipping to the beat, the lights still flashing. It was a considerably large abode, two stories high with a pointed roof, a white picket fence, the trees that surrounded it were carefully trimmed and healthy, a neatly cut front yard, and at the moment with an empty driveway.
The beams of light began to shine brighter and the images became blurred and distorted. She squinted toward the house at the end of the street, even if she no longer wanted to see the jubilance of it any more. She sat on the curb under the faint light of the streetlamp, still clasping her sides, her arms in her lap, and looked at the ground. Droplets fell from her cheeks, chilling her face as the breeze passed through, and splashed when they hit the street.
Looking back she saw the flashing lights that illuminated all different colors inside the house, from purple to blue to pink to red then randomly to green and all over again. The music began to speed up and she saw the shadows in the window skipping to the beat, the lights still flashing. It was a considerably large abode, two stories high with a pointed roof, a white picket fence, the trees that surrounded it were carefully trimmed and healthy, a neatly cut front yard, and at the moment with an empty driveway.
The beams of light began to shine brighter and the images became blurred and distorted. She squinted toward the house at the end of the street, even if she no longer wanted to see the jubilance of it any more. She sat on the curb under the faint light of the streetlamp, still clasping her sides, her arms in her lap, and looked at the ground. Droplets fell from her cheeks, chilling her face as the breeze passed through, and splashed when they hit the street.