Madison Dell'aquila
Bio
Writing about spiders at the bottom of your glasses and why your hands are green.
Stories (3/0)
Lake has waves
That day didn't happen. The night had soaked itself into the hours and that feeling arose again, this unstable, gnawing feeling of intense need. It was itching underneath my skin, crawling and growing. Attaching itself to my bones, chafing. I stumbled back on the sand, pulling myself consciously away from the shore where the shrill of cold touched the digits of my feet. Pulling me from my hallucination, Emry wrapped her fingers around my arm, fake nails digging into my skin, I stepped further backwards. "I think we should all go to bed, have an early one."
By Madison Dell'aquila3 years ago in Horror
Alex and Dolores
The children’s laughter echo through the park. There is an extravagant birthday 100 feet from me, a primary coloured bouncy house, balloons on strings and mother’s clucking and gawking like stunned hens keeping up with the joneses. I chuckle at the irony, a child’s 9th birthday and I am semi standing on Finch’s grave. He was fat. Takes up the entire patch, keeping him restrained with a thin iron fence and a plywood box. The children scream and giggle. “They’re laughing at you Finch.”
By Madison Dell'aquila3 years ago in Fiction
