Blinking. I never understood the purpose of blinking, but now I understand why people always got intrigued whenever someone was unconscious and woke up dreamily. What happens next? Is the question I ask myself when I blink my eyes, and see the face of a boy, draped in a white sheet of a nightgown. He had a halo of butterflies surrounding his silhouette. Grey and glittering gold they floated down around his pasty hair. It puzzled me how beautiful and mesmerizing he looked. Lost and scared. I felt sorry for such an obviously troubled soul, but he was gorgeous. Gorgeous and afraid, the butterflies zapped away into oblivion as the darkness inhaled me with its huge jaws. I was in the corner of the deepest ocean. Unable to breath.
It felt like decades before I was dragged back to the surface by the very darkness that was keeping me in, it taunted me as I struggled against the bungee that was taking me away. I had grown used to the darkness, but it was a voice that made me listen. A deafening scream.
After hours and hours of condescending blackness I hear a female voice, soft and sarcastic, it was almost like her voice was two long hands, pulling me upwards to her.
“Who is she… What did the label say her name was?... Annevita Rose Gallia… Gees what a strange name… she's from the north side?... oh that makes sense…”
My eyes flickered open again and this time I didn't see the boy, just a whirring bright light shining into my open irises. Pity.
I make a sound of disgust and discomfort at the light,
Cool. Carry on...
ReplyDeleteHi Blue, I like your book so far. This book reminds me of the Greek god myths. Carry on with your book!
ReplyDelete-Willow