Quick rhythmic steps echoed in the deserted street. It actually didn't
surprise her that it was deserted. after all, who goes outside at 1:30 in
the morning?
People who cant sleep
The black boots left small traces in the mud on the sidewalk, but the girl didn't seem to care that her shoes were getting dirty. The girl didn't really look like she cared about anything. She was a very tall, slender, strait figure, clad in a black trenchcoat that fluttered behind her. She wore a deep violet shirt, and black pants. It was impossible to see her face because it was cast in shadow, but her hair was a violent shade of violet, many strands in her face, hiding it even more from view, a curtain shading her from the world. As she stepped under a flickering streetlight, a passing viewer could clearly see a pale, fragile face. One that could shatter at any moment, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise. A chocolate brown with lashes so thick it was almost hard to see that her eyes weren't the vivid black her mascara held. She held an aristocratic nose, and pale, puckerish lips. She had a chin that held a permanent stubbornness to it. Interesting, very. Not quite beautiful but certainly not ugly. Her head was cast downwards, looking at her feet as she walked, lost in her own train of thoughts.
Gaz
All alone, with no one to talk to, she kept her emotions bottled up inside, with a cork so tightly ground in, it was almost swallowed by the neck. Impossible to get inside. And that was the way she wanted it. She reached the door of her house, and with a heavy inward sigh, opened it as quietly as she could.
Walking lightly inside, she looked to the left and saw Dib asleep on the couch, his glasses askew, his hair defying gravity more than usual. The tv cast an eerie glow on his face, flickering in the room. Gaz saw the words "Mysterious Mysteries Marathon" reflected in his glasses and smiled with her eyes. Mouth smiling just wasn't as truthful as eye smiling, so her lips never curved upwards. Gaz walked over to the hall closet, and got out a blanket covered with UFO's, then walked back to Dib, placing it over his sleeping form.
No matter what they said, Dib was beautiful. So beautiful.
Gaz walked slowly up to her room. It was a barren, dead looking space, with a smell of old death. The windows were painted black. She loved it. Shedding her clothes, she stood bare in front of her mirror with spiderwebs of cracks running through it. Numerous cuts and old scars were artistically arranged on her wrists. She examined herself, a girl of fifteen, hating her body but loving her soul so much she would cut herself with her own reflection to let it bleed out, licking it up, enjoying the spice on her tongue.
This is the way to eat a soul. She wore black because that was the only color that matched with it. She hated the world because they were ignorant. She loved death because that was the demon that haunted nightmares. The world is all a blurred shade of grey, there is no white and black is only found in people's minds.
People who cant sleep
The black boots left small traces in the mud on the sidewalk, but the girl didn't seem to care that her shoes were getting dirty. The girl didn't really look like she cared about anything. She was a very tall, slender, strait figure, clad in a black trenchcoat that fluttered behind her. She wore a deep violet shirt, and black pants. It was impossible to see her face because it was cast in shadow, but her hair was a violent shade of violet, many strands in her face, hiding it even more from view, a curtain shading her from the world. As she stepped under a flickering streetlight, a passing viewer could clearly see a pale, fragile face. One that could shatter at any moment, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise. A chocolate brown with lashes so thick it was almost hard to see that her eyes weren't the vivid black her mascara held. She held an aristocratic nose, and pale, puckerish lips. She had a chin that held a permanent stubbornness to it. Interesting, very. Not quite beautiful but certainly not ugly. Her head was cast downwards, looking at her feet as she walked, lost in her own train of thoughts.
Gaz
All alone, with no one to talk to, she kept her emotions bottled up inside, with a cork so tightly ground in, it was almost swallowed by the neck. Impossible to get inside. And that was the way she wanted it. She reached the door of her house, and with a heavy inward sigh, opened it as quietly as she could.
Walking lightly inside, she looked to the left and saw Dib asleep on the couch, his glasses askew, his hair defying gravity more than usual. The tv cast an eerie glow on his face, flickering in the room. Gaz saw the words "Mysterious Mysteries Marathon" reflected in his glasses and smiled with her eyes. Mouth smiling just wasn't as truthful as eye smiling, so her lips never curved upwards. Gaz walked over to the hall closet, and got out a blanket covered with UFO's, then walked back to Dib, placing it over his sleeping form.
No matter what they said, Dib was beautiful. So beautiful.
Gaz walked slowly up to her room. It was a barren, dead looking space, with a smell of old death. The windows were painted black. She loved it. Shedding her clothes, she stood bare in front of her mirror with spiderwebs of cracks running through it. Numerous cuts and old scars were artistically arranged on her wrists. She examined herself, a girl of fifteen, hating her body but loving her soul so much she would cut herself with her own reflection to let it bleed out, licking it up, enjoying the spice on her tongue.
This is the way to eat a soul. She wore black because that was the only color that matched with it. She hated the world because they were ignorant. She loved death because that was the demon that haunted nightmares. The world is all a blurred shade of grey, there is no white and black is only found in people's minds.
