rh29
A whole life was contained within that one bag. His life in a black and orange zip-up hold all. This was all he had left, a few assorted belongings of minimal importance in the scale of things. A couple of soggy books, a knitted sweater (now stretched) a pair of tennis shoes, a frying pan, two plastic bowls, a plastic statue of liberty souvenir and a basketball. Everything else had been ruined in the deluge.
What the fan-hordes didn't know about Dana was that their favourite actress was beginning to hate the limelight. She despised the attention, being stopped in the grocery store, in the queue for the ladies. The camera flash was branded onto the inner side of her eyelid; it glared even when she tried to close her eyes to sleep. As a kid, Dana was never outgoing and had the school report card to prove it. She built a cardboard box of a world with her love of pretending. Pretending to be someone else in a different life.
Salty, stinging, searing, ice-cold water. Sea green. Spitting. Choking. Cast about like flotsam in the tide. Drowning.
She looked up at the steel grey sky and let the rain run off her upturned face. Once upon a time she hated the sound of the rain drumming on the roof because it meant time trapped in the confines of the house or a bold dash to the car with soggy shoes and umbrellas that dripped and poked your eye out. Now she would do anything to hear the rain fall hard as it bounced off the pavement or off the roof of the car. Instead she was trapped in the confines of a soundless world and the constrant dizzy thrum of nothingness.
Externally we are exactly the same, you and I. We share the same DNA…the same blood runs red through our veins. And yet we are two – separate in our distinct identities and minds charged with a different array of memories.
I’m glad we don’t share each other's thoughts because we’d drive each other insane.
Externally we are exactly the same, you and I. We share the same DNA...the same blood runs through our veins. And yet we are two - separate in our distinct identities and minds charged with different memories. I'm glad we don't share each others thoughts because that would drive me insane.
Hallow: to make holy or sacred. To revere. She has made some things sacred which should not be, and revered one she should not. It was a hollow hope, one full of wasted desires and scattered dreams. To love Him and the power of His resurrection, breathing life to her weary bones. He was the One to be loved.
"Where were you last night?" he asked, one bushy grey eyebrow arched up towards his receeding hairline.
"Nowhere" said the girl sullenly, staring at the floor.
"You had to be somewhere, surely one cannot be nowhere"
"Well I was nowhere, doing nothing," she snapped.
"We need an alibi Kate, if you want us to believe you are innocent."
She turned her head and looked up slowly, eyes peering coldly between her jagged fringe.
"But I'm not innocent."
There was just a tiny sliver of light shining between the frame and the door, casting a slice of brightness on the cobbled floor. Edward ducked down in the shadows and held his breath as he pressed one cheek against cold stone and squinted to see into the room beyond.