Tunes in my head: I Am A Lonesome Fugitive by Leo Kottke and Mike Gordon
Atmosphere: Creative
She lay on the bed, writhing and begging for mercy.
Her face contorted itself into a number of different, equally agonising positions, each of them showing the pain within her soul. Eyes raging with the needles of fear. Mouth torn apart amongst itself, into so many different pieces.
There was no light within the room. No light within the person.
She was all alone in her cell, with no way of escape. No way to break free from this dangerous situation.
There was no window to reveal any semblence of respite, no light beaming it's way through.
She unconsciously echoed the few words in between her ears. Endlessly, namelessly. The words continued to spin on an unending loop.
Her blonde hair was in shreds on the floor.
--
This is the idea I intend on running with in November.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment