At my school there is this door that I wheel by everyday. It shakes and roars with type writer clicking noises as the handle shivers. It seems that there is something craving to escape its current destination. Its soul wanting desperately to come out of its years of torture and hunger. Now only a shrunken, frail, almost skeleton looking mangled body. Pale scabbed skin from lack of natural light, her hair is thin and long, black with color, yet at the tips are faint gray. She has no eyes to see her surroundings but can hear voices coming from the walls. She hears pitter patters of feet, hundreds of fast feet passing by her everyday- squeaks of shoes. Chatter, laughter. Her lips are dry and cracked like her frail hands that lightly shake the door all day wondering if anyone would notice. Well I noticed. I heard you. Or it could just be the furnace :P
Posted on: Thu, 09 Oct 2014 23:54:10 +0000
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