Melanie Ann
Stories (2/0)
Monsters and Beasts
When the world crumbled, I did not crack. It fell apart years ago with the rolling of the final stone. The country as we knew it, once a grand white house, was reduced to nothing more than rubble. My father could see it coming as if he had already lived a life in the middle of an empire as it fell. The subtle warning signs were sirens to him, and while no one believed him, I did. His eyes had always been his tell, and when they changed, I knew they were nothing but the truth. It’s a slight difference; eyes filled with fear are not the same as those filled with dread. Fear hinges on some level of uncertainty, the threat of some horrible unknown thing coming to pass. With dread, there is no running. There is no hiding. Dread is the acceptance that it is here, that the horrible is happening. Like seeing the swell of the sea before it crests and knowing that the tidal wave will follow, there is no way to stop it. Somehow at only ten years of age, I knew this difference. That’s why I believed him - his eyes were certain. The wave was coming.
By Melanie Ann3 years ago in Futurism
Bookends to Generations
It sat there for days. On my desk in front of the window. The window that looks out onto the street I’ve spent my entire life on. Brick homes, tall and thin, neatly stacked next to one another as they form lines down both sides of the street. Easy enough to see why they are called row houses, it doesn’t take much creativity to get from here to there. I found the notebook the day after his funeral. Although it was plainly placed within the top of his desk, so in a way, the notebook found me. For it wasn’t hidden, only waiting for me to arrive.
By Melanie Ann3 years ago in Humans