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Weekly Contest #377
Some nights you dance teary eyed under the moonlight, and some nights you lie in a motionless crimson bed under the escaping sunlight. A smooth, white, porcelain - elegant even in its everlasting perfection. Smooth jazz wanders through the door, like winds flying through the clouds, freeing in its wake. Cracks of light break through porcelain shadow, a dry, aching, prison of cement. The dawn commands to be seen, to be noticed, hailing a story to be told through luminescent shadows of light, accentuating hidden windowsills and a supernatural...
THE GIRL AT THE DOOR The moon was high, the winds blew harsh and brash, as a storm raged on across the streets, but somewhere.. in a small apartment.. lived a man. This man… did not let the harsh and brash-ness of this storm frighten him, rather… he was the exact opposite of frightened… at peace. Laying into the soft, plush pillows of his couch, his headphones adjusted exactly on his ears as he listened to that peace-bringing piano he loved. Unbeknownst to him… a different kind of storm… would rage into his life very soon. Hours later into ...
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