Thursday, January 17, 2013

A Portrait of Hope


Soft-spoken secrets, the soundless steps of hope, and a dusty portrait brought a sinking feeling that the weirdly creepy blackness around was populated by vengeful recollections weeping in the shadows. What’s the point, she thought. Yet she still fought for that place where people could disappear, that creepy old house where the flowers grew in tones of life. As she looked at one of the paintings on the wall, a storm of colors reminded her of the past, of when she was a young girl walking down the stairs and smiling, back when she was freshly dead feeling as alive as she had never felt before.

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