Spook
October 4th, 2011, 07:22 PM
Plip. Plip. Plip.
A quiet house, but the patter of a leaking faucet.
A hand dangles from the edge of the tub, holding the stub of an oak tree branch.
The branch is gnarled, and the roots wrap around the fingers of the person, hugging close. A flash of green life crawls up the center of the leaf, swirling to it's center. The bathwater is cold, and the roots slither down the arm, dipping their toes into the water, drinking deep. The bathwater is polluted with age, a thin layer of dust floating above the water, undisturbed. The window above the shower is open, letting in a stream of sunlight, shedding light on the dancing swirls of dust as wind sighs into the window. A strand of hair floats in the water, still. A neclace hugs her neck. When the wind blows, her hair sweeps across her face in gentle caresses. A bird tweets nearby as the clouds clear, and the sun peeks over the edge of the earth, revealing it's prescense in the shady neighborhood as shadows dance away, hiding until night. Still the house is quiet. Not a sound, not the slightest sound of a human breath, or even the buzz of a fly. The gentle sigh of the wind rocks the water, the strand of hair flowing gracefully through. Soap cakes the rim of the tub, where another motionless hand grips fast to the edge. A face beneath the water, thick dark lashes, swaying with the water, brushing the pale innocent face, like butterflies wings. Thin lips are parted, in an expression full of meaning, but silent in itself. Forever peace rests on her expression, while the hardship of life goes on around her.
She is flying.
Caroline.
A quiet house, but the patter of a leaking faucet.
A hand dangles from the edge of the tub, holding the stub of an oak tree branch.
The branch is gnarled, and the roots wrap around the fingers of the person, hugging close. A flash of green life crawls up the center of the leaf, swirling to it's center. The bathwater is cold, and the roots slither down the arm, dipping their toes into the water, drinking deep. The bathwater is polluted with age, a thin layer of dust floating above the water, undisturbed. The window above the shower is open, letting in a stream of sunlight, shedding light on the dancing swirls of dust as wind sighs into the window. A strand of hair floats in the water, still. A neclace hugs her neck. When the wind blows, her hair sweeps across her face in gentle caresses. A bird tweets nearby as the clouds clear, and the sun peeks over the edge of the earth, revealing it's prescense in the shady neighborhood as shadows dance away, hiding until night. Still the house is quiet. Not a sound, not the slightest sound of a human breath, or even the buzz of a fly. The gentle sigh of the wind rocks the water, the strand of hair flowing gracefully through. Soap cakes the rim of the tub, where another motionless hand grips fast to the edge. A face beneath the water, thick dark lashes, swaying with the water, brushing the pale innocent face, like butterflies wings. Thin lips are parted, in an expression full of meaning, but silent in itself. Forever peace rests on her expression, while the hardship of life goes on around her.
She is flying.
Caroline.