Post by Houdini on Feb 10, 2008 11:57:29 GMT -5
((Please PM me if you are interested in posting))
She ran blindly, slowing up when she reached the graveyard. Her body was shaking and heaving in her attempt to keep the silent anguish inside. The torrent of emotions poured down on her as hard and heartless as the chilly rain did at that very moment. Her heavy footfalls made splashes as she walked down the muddy, rutted dirt path that wove its way in and out of graves. She was having one of her rare psychological battles inside her head. Oddly enough, she was somehow comforted by walking along the worn muddy path that wove its way through the peaceful sleepers. None of them were able to see her, to hear her, or to pity her. They were all gone – they had left this world of anguish and suffering. Houdini envied them in that respect.
It was a rare thing for anyone ever to see this side of Houdini. In fact, she couldn’t recall one person who had. She had always sheltered her emotions behind a stone wall, like a criminal hides his identity with a mask. She showed her emotions to no one – with the exception of anger.
It was unusually cold as she walked blindly through the graves. The heavy rain was beating her tired and worn body, and her clothes were clinging to her. Her white shirt that had once been keeping her body covered modestly now clung to her transparently, showing off her thin body. Her pants were heavy with water and splattered with grime mixed with dirty water and her shoes flooded. Mud streaked up and down her legs and filled her shoes. Streams of water were flowing down the brim of her cap, making it hard for her to see.
A chilled wind whipped sharply at her, whistling through the headstones. Her face stung from the impact and tears flowed freely down her already wet face. She was nauseous and felt light headed. She hadn’t eaten in a day and Influenza was spreading around the city. She knew she had the symptoms, but she was too stubborn and strong willed to admit it.
She was suddenly forced to stop, panting. Her stomach convulsed and poured out, weakening her legs which buckled beneath her. She clutched to the nearest headstone like a frightened child clutches its mothers skirt. Her knuckles were as white as her pale face. She seemed illuminated in the darkness of the eerie graveyard. She wretched again, and this time lost all strength. She collapsed into the mud, coughing violently. Specks of mud and grime now flecked her smooth face. The world was fading into black, and the last thing she saw was a figure running towards her through the rain. Whether it was wishful thinking of her imagination or the real thing, she didn’t know. Her eyes closed and all was silent.
She ran blindly, slowing up when she reached the graveyard. Her body was shaking and heaving in her attempt to keep the silent anguish inside. The torrent of emotions poured down on her as hard and heartless as the chilly rain did at that very moment. Her heavy footfalls made splashes as she walked down the muddy, rutted dirt path that wove its way in and out of graves. She was having one of her rare psychological battles inside her head. Oddly enough, she was somehow comforted by walking along the worn muddy path that wove its way through the peaceful sleepers. None of them were able to see her, to hear her, or to pity her. They were all gone – they had left this world of anguish and suffering. Houdini envied them in that respect.
It was a rare thing for anyone ever to see this side of Houdini. In fact, she couldn’t recall one person who had. She had always sheltered her emotions behind a stone wall, like a criminal hides his identity with a mask. She showed her emotions to no one – with the exception of anger.
It was unusually cold as she walked blindly through the graves. The heavy rain was beating her tired and worn body, and her clothes were clinging to her. Her white shirt that had once been keeping her body covered modestly now clung to her transparently, showing off her thin body. Her pants were heavy with water and splattered with grime mixed with dirty water and her shoes flooded. Mud streaked up and down her legs and filled her shoes. Streams of water were flowing down the brim of her cap, making it hard for her to see.
A chilled wind whipped sharply at her, whistling through the headstones. Her face stung from the impact and tears flowed freely down her already wet face. She was nauseous and felt light headed. She hadn’t eaten in a day and Influenza was spreading around the city. She knew she had the symptoms, but she was too stubborn and strong willed to admit it.
She was suddenly forced to stop, panting. Her stomach convulsed and poured out, weakening her legs which buckled beneath her. She clutched to the nearest headstone like a frightened child clutches its mothers skirt. Her knuckles were as white as her pale face. She seemed illuminated in the darkness of the eerie graveyard. She wretched again, and this time lost all strength. She collapsed into the mud, coughing violently. Specks of mud and grime now flecked her smooth face. The world was fading into black, and the last thing she saw was a figure running towards her through the rain. Whether it was wishful thinking of her imagination or the real thing, she didn’t know. Her eyes closed and all was silent.
