"I’m scared…” she whispered, the cold started to seep through her fingers as she watched the misty entrails of extended arms pluck at her hard earned gold center. She searched and searched for that familiar warmth, she longed for it but it all retreated away from her deserted heart. She had been the most plausible happy that she could be since struggling through years of abuse moments before. Her insides screamed to be loved, they were beginning to sew small beads of red lace together, a gift to give but her cold reflection refused. A war of thread thrashed in her chest, it threatened to break out- warned of the needle like protrusion it could prevail with, yet her hands pressed the pain deeper, harder, heavier against her sternum. There was no one there to help anymore, just slowly distancing souls that reached out with long spindly fingers. “Ghosts! Ghosts!” She swore they would damage her more than she could ever hurt herself. Occasionally when curiosity slithered over her dead skin she would allow the translucent fingers to wrap around the delicate, bloody lace that she constantly weaved only to rip it away in fear, splattering red and gold and black in the small room she encased herself in. “I’m scared…” she whispered as she coiled in fear."

decembereighth 2010