March 20, 2015: Atmosphere

At first she repulses me.

People like you find it easy.

Don’t walk away.

Don’t walk away in silence.

She looks like she hasn’t eaten in thousands of years.

Her clothes hang incredibly lose and she’s constantly wiping snot from her nose or blood from her cheeks with her long fingernails. She walks close to the buildings, doubled over in hunger, dirt piling on her shoulders.

Every corner is abandoned too soon.

Don’t turn away.

Around her feet swirls a green mist, the echo of screams. Her grin is reminiscent of a time before being.

Endless talking.

Life rebuilding.

Don’t walk away.

In her wake is death and chaos. She moves like a daughter of night with swollen knees.

The scent of vanilla trails after her.
I follow, watching her closely.
She seems out-of-place in this world. Somehow constrained.
It’s the grin that really gives her away.
She’s bigger than this place. She’s holding back.

The blood drips from her cheeks to the ground, little flowers sprouting from the sidewalk. Darkness stays close, blanketing her.

Our eyes meet and her grin drops.

Don’t turn away.

My illusion…worn like a mask of self-hate.

We stare at each other. Her stomach rumbles and I can hear the beginnings of a universe. Chaos swirls in her throat as she speaks in a language I don’t understand.

She begins to grin again, wipes her nose, and walks away.

Flashes of a battlefield. I begin to feel tired. The buildings crumble around her as she walks on. The atmosphere is thick with sadness and vanilla, uncertainty and violence.

She continues to walk down the street in the pre-dawn, chaos-singing and stealing away the night.

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