haunt hall {d9} fin
May 1, 2020 8:40:16 GMT -5
Post by D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza] on May 1, 2020 8:40:16 GMT -5
III
As for the present, she squatted in her old home and counted the money to her name on the floor. The empty house managed to retain some of its old ghosts; mirrors on the wall seemed to capture the essence of a stable family home that these walls hadn't seen for a number of years, the glass panes of the windows allowing the wind's howl to linger ominously from the evening onwards. And with that came a chill that had a hundred tiny teeth and threatened to bite at her fingers.
The pennies, coins and paper notes raged against the brisk air and stayed warm in her palms. She felt clammy as she sorted her finances, yet still, she managed to maintain a sense of unshakeable composure that made her like stone. Never did she cry in fear of the unknown because the unknown excited her. It gave her a feeling of being alive like no other. As if she was plugged into the power grid and was thriving directly from the current: it lights her up and she has no off switch.
"$154," she laughs off the figure as if it was meaningless. "That year of my life turned out to be many things, but I would not let it become my last."
She was seeking something bigger than the story she had already created for herself; it disappointed her how the only triumph had been freedom in the form of poverty. Falling back on the floor, she stared into non-existence and went into a state of deep contemplation. There only seemed one logical next step for her, all things considered, and it would involve the loss of all she had known.
"Risk," a smirk twists itself onto her face. The intimidation only grows as even the slightest of movements feel calculated enough to belittle anyone who faces her. "I'd rather regret being a lion than live as a lamb."
But the lion did not do as a lion does: she did not roar. She did, however, become the predator with her sights set on distant prey. Electric excitement whirred behind her knowing eyes and a hunger was the only thing in her stomach for days—but it fuelled her body as strongly as the pain did her mind.
One glance into the gaunt mirror on the wall and she saw a devilish version of her younger sister: her sweet smile mangled into something menacing, the rosiness of her cheeks replaced by a raw resilience that matched the fire on her tongue. In her reflection, she saw her roots—and she saw a way out.
Déjà vu.
"Better the devil you know."
The pennies, coins and paper notes raged against the brisk air and stayed warm in her palms. She felt clammy as she sorted her finances, yet still, she managed to maintain a sense of unshakeable composure that made her like stone. Never did she cry in fear of the unknown because the unknown excited her. It gave her a feeling of being alive like no other. As if she was plugged into the power grid and was thriving directly from the current: it lights her up and she has no off switch.
"$154," she laughs off the figure as if it was meaningless. "That year of my life turned out to be many things, but I would not let it become my last."
She was seeking something bigger than the story she had already created for herself; it disappointed her how the only triumph had been freedom in the form of poverty. Falling back on the floor, she stared into non-existence and went into a state of deep contemplation. There only seemed one logical next step for her, all things considered, and it would involve the loss of all she had known.
"Risk," a smirk twists itself onto her face. The intimidation only grows as even the slightest of movements feel calculated enough to belittle anyone who faces her. "I'd rather regret being a lion than live as a lamb."
But the lion did not do as a lion does: she did not roar. She did, however, become the predator with her sights set on distant prey. Electric excitement whirred behind her knowing eyes and a hunger was the only thing in her stomach for days—but it fuelled her body as strongly as the pain did her mind.
One glance into the gaunt mirror on the wall and she saw a devilish version of her younger sister: her sweet smile mangled into something menacing, the rosiness of her cheeks replaced by a raw resilience that matched the fire on her tongue. In her reflection, she saw her roots—and she saw a way out.
Déjà vu.
"Better the devil you know."