My tears smelled just like the coming storms I feared as a little girl.
My sadness felt like when I put my hand to the windows as lightening cracked and waited for the thunder to slowly roll itself through the house shaking the rooms as it prowled.
My eyes opened as though the sky itself poured into my hands and dripped down my small legs.
My nightmares were that one heavy droplet that fell into the part of my plaits and ran its skinny fingers down my neck.
I’ve grown older and I no longer fear the coming storms.
I’ve grown older and learned to fear only
Myself.
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A’Moor_Creative
🔮Creatively Writing for the Unseen World📝
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The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
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