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| Watersweet |
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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