Fine, white blonde hair falls thickly in front of tired, young eyes, filling a void between vacant eyes and a broken, hopeless landscape.
Her tongue slides slickly past her teeth, tasting her coppery blood. She shoots a sharp glance to see the red on her softball bat.
A shift spins her insides round, when remembering his twisted face, crimson red, purple black, contorted in ways that would be comical if it weren't sickening.
The wind chills past her neck, taking its costly toll of warmth from her pale neck. She pulls her scarf tightly around her face.
“I'm okay now...”
loving the art work that's going along with this incredibly visual words. seriously awesome, Lorin. seriously.
ReplyDeleteThanks much for the kind words.
DeleteWhoa.
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DeleteFantastic! That picture ... wow!
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