A Home

The purity of the whole place is deceiving. The white walls

scream for the souls that inhabit them. Dear ol' Ms.

Everton. The lady never leaves her room which is adorned

trinkets from her jewellery box that hang from the ceiling by

re-dried wax sweated off by her vibrant scented candles.

The colours of the costume jewels bounce around her room,

whilst she detangles her long white hair, as if they are the

lost colours that have drained from her eyes.

Comments

kt6550

Commented Jun 10, 2009, 12:45:25 AM

Very nice. Very touching. Well done. B)

Vermithrax

Commented Dec 31, 2009, 11:37:54 AM

This has great feeling. Nicely done.

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"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
-- Anaïs Nin

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A general fiction story by

Sarah1993