"What?" The words didn't seem to sink in, they seemed to pass over her and never really settle. She refused to believe it, maybe that was why.
By Amanda H5 years ago in Humans
The chill went deeper than her bones. It didn't even pierce her skin, it was more a chill of the slowly-but-surely-seeping-deeper-into-your-being-and-suffocating-you-from-within variety. She hugged the deep crimson throw closer to her body in the hopes that it would help preserve what little body heat she emanated.
By Amanda H5 years ago in Poets
As an arsonist, you view me as an encumbrance, as out-of-control pest, even. But, As an arsonist, I don't burn my bridges randomly.
I like it down here; it’s quiet, my surroundings—cool against my skin. It’s comforting, calming. It’s almost funny; you can struggle or you can relax, and sink down, down, down. But not far down enough to where it gets colder.