Post by tabitha on Sept 17, 2010 22:44:07 GMT -8
Creeping, creeping. Pax had read 'The Yellow Wallpaper'. Well, she couldn't actually recall reading it but she knew the story, and that word that peeked out at her from between the narrative, 'creeping'. It stayed with her, a single drop of water hitting her on the top of her head again and again.
The smell of books and book dust wafting was always comforting to Pax. Her name was Pax but she rarely had any for herself. As she lurked she pressed her palms against the spines, imagining words like vertebrae, her long dark hair falling in tangled tendrils around her pallid face. With her very-faded black dress brushing her knees and her silent way of sneaking between the stacks Pax could be a shadow.
A shadow of a girl, creeping.
The smell of books and book dust wafting was always comforting to Pax. Her name was Pax but she rarely had any for herself. As she lurked she pressed her palms against the spines, imagining words like vertebrae, her long dark hair falling in tangled tendrils around her pallid face. With her very-faded black dress brushing her knees and her silent way of sneaking between the stacks Pax could be a shadow.
A shadow of a girl, creeping.