Comments Posted By pecatrix
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The grass poked up from the soil like talons, grasping for life. In the dead of winter, they were the only color that I could see.
» Posted By pecatrix On 02.18.2014 @ 11:25 pm
A cabin in the woods, blanketed in snow. It is dusk. Light quickly dissipates as fog rushes in. Almost imperceptibly slowly, the door creaks open.
» Posted By pecatrix On 01.27.2012 @ 3:35 pm
The veil didn’t quite cover her tears. As she slipped her hands into her pockets (remembering her mother’s odd look as she sent dress after dress away for their lack of them) her fingers close around the knife.
» Posted By pecatrix On 12.11.2011 @ 5:45 pm
There is a giant picture window at the end of the hallway. Clear glass, slightly smudged at shoulder level, framed in whitewashed wood. The shutters are thrown ajar, the wood splintered at the base. A lavender curtain waves wildly in the breeze.
» Posted By pecatrix On 12.09.2011 @ 5:33 pm
He hits the return key. It squelches slightly. Brow wrinkled, he gives it a long look. It ceases to return his look, or do anything interesting at all, really.
» Posted By pecatrix On 12.06.2011 @ 10:22 pm
There is a house. It is whitewashed with white shingles and a green yard in front. Curtains edged with lace are open over the kitchen windows. Inside is a table. The glass swan centerpiece lies broken upon it.
» Posted By pecatrix On 12.04.2011 @ 7:13 pm
When he closes his eyes, he can still see the silhouette of skyscrapers against his eyelids. Even when he runs as far as he can — hops a train, a plane, and hitchikes — he can’t forget the city skyline.
» Posted By pecatrix On 11.29.2011 @ 12:50 pm
Orange suit, grey walls. Only orange and grey exist in this place. 6 by 3 — she knows exactly how many paces long and wide the room is. Sometimes, she feels like every breath she takes is stealing air from the room. Those are the nights she wakes up sweating.
» Posted By pecatrix On 11.17.2011 @ 9:37 pm
Her skin was pale beneath the ink. Dragons rippled across her shoulderblades as she stretched; a phoenix stretched its wings over her rips as she breathed.
» Posted By pecatrix On 10.26.2011 @ 2:17 pm
Drums beat. Like blood, like mortars raining down from above the trenches. And this is morale? Dirt drops in clods around your head and you flinch, expecting every touch to be the last. Shells shriek in the air.
» Posted By pecatrix On 10.17.2011 @ 12:45 am
Stacks of books tower overhead, bending inwards, stretching reality at the seams. Just outside, cigarette butts form smoldering stacks. The wind picks up, breathing fire into the ashes so they spark.
» Posted By pecatrix On 10.10.2011 @ 12:18 pm
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Gold filled the room, topped off with silver like a particularly suspicious mixed drink topped with foam.
» Posted By pecatrix On 10.07.2011 @ 4:21 pm