My beloved readers and fellow authors, forgive me for not updating or
submitting reviews sooner. I've been in the hospital recently, and I wasn't
able to get to a computer very often. but I'm back! :-D Thank you for your
sweet reviews!
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Eames went straight home, crying and clinging to herself. She felt cold and sick inside, queasy and nauseous. Several times she was caught between a long, shuddering gasp and a low moan. The shivers were crawling down her spine, leaving icy, slimy trails.
She faltered up the stairs to her apartment, her legs still shaky-weak and trembling uncontrollably underneath her, and managed to get inside before collapsing on the sofa. For the longest time she just sat there, curled up amid the cushions, tears streaming down her face.
She still couldn't believe what had happened. Her mind was reeling from the absurdity of it; it was too surreal, too weird.
Still clutching herself closely, her fingers tight with tension, Eames slipped off the couch and wobbled her way to the bathroom. Flicking the light on, she knelt unsteadily by the bathtub and turned the tap. Hot water came gushing out, the noise a steady roar above the silence. She relaxed as her white, strained face was bathed in drifts of warm steam, and shed her clothes.
The bath was long and soothing; Eames let the heat soak deeply into her bones, closing her eyes and sighing with contentment. Afterwards, she rolled herself up in a fluffy towel and padded softly out into the hallway, looking for her bathrobe.
It was hung up in an old wooden wardrobe that her elder sister had given to her as a birthday present, and she turned the handle to swing open the door; the brass hinges squeaked as she peered inside and fished out her bathrobe. She shrugged into it, poking her arms through the sleeves and tying the long sash in a loose knot, then put her hand on the door to shove it shut. She turned her head and looked down the hallway.
Her walls had been painted a solid blue colour; now they were plastered over with a faded flowery paper. The carpet underneath her feet had been suddenly replaced by wooden flooring, and the overhead light had disappeared. Instead of the archway to the living room, there was a shut door bordered by softly glowing gas lamps.
The closed door opened and a young girl dressed in a trailing green dress, encircled with ruffles and edged with lace, stepped out. Her brown hair wisped around her face in loose curls, pinned into place with glittering green jewels. She giggled and sang blithely to herself, her feathered fan beating the air softly like a bird's wing as she skipped around a few steps. She hummed a light and lively tune, spun about in a graceful pirouette as her skirts billowed around her--and stopped as she saw Eames. The girl then laughed aloud, her face bright with mirth and mischief, and made a sweeping curtsey to the detective.
Stiff with shock, her face rigid and white, Eames retreated a few steps and let go of the cabinet door.
The girl and her surroundings disappeared into thin air; the detective was standing in her own darkened hallway again. Eames's knees gave out beneath her and she sunk to the floor, shaking, shuddering, still staring into nothingness.
~*~*~*~*~*~
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Eames went straight home, crying and clinging to herself. She felt cold and sick inside, queasy and nauseous. Several times she was caught between a long, shuddering gasp and a low moan. The shivers were crawling down her spine, leaving icy, slimy trails.
She faltered up the stairs to her apartment, her legs still shaky-weak and trembling uncontrollably underneath her, and managed to get inside before collapsing on the sofa. For the longest time she just sat there, curled up amid the cushions, tears streaming down her face.
She still couldn't believe what had happened. Her mind was reeling from the absurdity of it; it was too surreal, too weird.
Still clutching herself closely, her fingers tight with tension, Eames slipped off the couch and wobbled her way to the bathroom. Flicking the light on, she knelt unsteadily by the bathtub and turned the tap. Hot water came gushing out, the noise a steady roar above the silence. She relaxed as her white, strained face was bathed in drifts of warm steam, and shed her clothes.
The bath was long and soothing; Eames let the heat soak deeply into her bones, closing her eyes and sighing with contentment. Afterwards, she rolled herself up in a fluffy towel and padded softly out into the hallway, looking for her bathrobe.
It was hung up in an old wooden wardrobe that her elder sister had given to her as a birthday present, and she turned the handle to swing open the door; the brass hinges squeaked as she peered inside and fished out her bathrobe. She shrugged into it, poking her arms through the sleeves and tying the long sash in a loose knot, then put her hand on the door to shove it shut. She turned her head and looked down the hallway.
Her walls had been painted a solid blue colour; now they were plastered over with a faded flowery paper. The carpet underneath her feet had been suddenly replaced by wooden flooring, and the overhead light had disappeared. Instead of the archway to the living room, there was a shut door bordered by softly glowing gas lamps.
The closed door opened and a young girl dressed in a trailing green dress, encircled with ruffles and edged with lace, stepped out. Her brown hair wisped around her face in loose curls, pinned into place with glittering green jewels. She giggled and sang blithely to herself, her feathered fan beating the air softly like a bird's wing as she skipped around a few steps. She hummed a light and lively tune, spun about in a graceful pirouette as her skirts billowed around her--and stopped as she saw Eames. The girl then laughed aloud, her face bright with mirth and mischief, and made a sweeping curtsey to the detective.
Stiff with shock, her face rigid and white, Eames retreated a few steps and let go of the cabinet door.
The girl and her surroundings disappeared into thin air; the detective was standing in her own darkened hallway again. Eames's knees gave out beneath her and she sunk to the floor, shaking, shuddering, still staring into nothingness.
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