The Room.

It was close to midnight when he came. She felt a brief gust of wind from the world, outside her walls as he entered. She knew he was trouble. The printed lines in her beloved books grinned a scornful smile and wisped short terms of emotions, but the tale of love was the one book she hadn't care to read. So she backed away, gradually closing her hands over her ears and waited for the unknown to fade away. But he didn't. He just stood there, firmly on two ebony black socks. She was impressed; no one had ever lasted this long in her room, no one except the books. The books, her only window to gaze from on the people out there, the only thinks she ever cared about. But he was different. He was beautiful. Her heart flourished as the eyes aimed their spotlights at his face. He smiled. She fell back as a hefty wave of heat flooded the room and the books started to rain like sprinkle glitter over her head. The drops of muteness wriggled down her hair and left marks of silence on her shoulders. She had never felt this present, she had never felt a stronger will to tear down the walls and open the doors to the world. She reached out her hands and smiled with the dimples burning into her cheeks, hoping he would smile some more, just for her. But suddenly, the roses caught between his thin crimson lips started to wither. The eyes that one's was there to gazed at her closed and tumbled back in to the skull. A great shriek of anguish filled her ears as the books that one's filled the grasping fingers unwrapped. She stared at the magnificence of the collapse, rotating the world around the moment.
And as he fizzled out into nothingness,

she raised and locked the door.

Short story by Sofia
Read 635 times
Written on 2007-10-14 at 18:06

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