Sybil twisted and tightened the rope wrapped around her wrists. The rough, frayed edges made her skin itch and crawl. As she sat in the middle of the wooden floor, the ancient bones of the house creaked. The wind blew like labored breaths, wheezing and scratching, full of sand. Spidery tendrils of smoke began to twist around her, capturing her in a web that she knew she would never escape. As the fire began to lick her skin, a tear escaped her darkened gray eyes, stinging her cracked lips, and with it freely flowed the remainder of her lucidity.
About the Creator
I'm a mom of three that has a burning passion for writing and activism. I'm currently a copywriter for Habit Nest, but I'm on Vocal to branch out further and put more of my own personal work out there. I hope you enjoy them!