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A gentle madman
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2020-10-31 01:31:05Her wake into consciousness was a drift into panic, anxiety and confusion. She felt dizzy, nauseous. Lightheaded and dry-mouthed she tried to speak but only coughed. Her sinuses stung, her allergies were acting up. She could smell the hay, dust prickled at her senses. She sniffled and struggled to only meow an urgency. She focused on more than her surroundings. She felt different somehow.
As she stamped her foot she heard a click. By exercising her ankles she found that she was wearing heels. Moving her hips she remembered her dress. Remembering the sudden gash against her skull. The removal of breath as she was stowed away from her home. She gasped. A sound emitted from the corner of the room and she froze. It was an indescribable fear that could only be compensated by experience. A fear that spoke in heartbeats and echoed a pulse.
She too remembered him. Tony Anderson, she scoffed at the name. She worried for her friend, Crystal. Overthinking the events of the previous night she was left numb, a numbness that grew from the feet up. She had no feeling in her legs, their blood flow was suppressed. She felt as though she was stepping deeper and deeper into a stream of ice. She flinched as something cold caressed her cheek. How unfortunate to be under such affliction that you are left aghast by your own tears.
She started to shake, she felt it from the tips of her fingers. She exhaled, slowly. Feeling as though she wasn't alone, she remained mute. She ceased from her wrangle and breathed ever so quietly. A methodical breeze crept passed her neck and licked her cheek. It bit her ear with a harsh exhale that almost sounded human. As it receded it turned into a gurgle, that if audible it would be a growl. The ends of her dress were dripping with liquid. Her lap turned from warm to cold, and she wiggled about in her own ordure. She was frightened beyond a doubt.
"So you're awake."
She heard the enthusiastic clapping of a man's hands. His voice was different, it had a vibrancy that seemed flamboyant. He spoke in a twang with a twist that didn't seem menacing.
"We cannot have you all soaked and indecent. It's no place for a lady to act wild."
She flinched as a cold palm touched her arm. She tried to move but could not. He leaned down to her ear and suggested," Let's have you in a different dress."
Pinakabagong kabanata
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The doorknob twisted and a light twinkling of metal came from outside. With murderous intent, Harry flung open the door, clinging onto the arch in need for support. Like a cunning serpent, he entered the garden of artworks. Grabbing his phone torch; he lit his way through the gallery.The air was dry, and his sinuses gnawed at him. He sneezed so hard he stumbled into something near the wall. It was wet paint. The gallery was still in the making, the interior design was incomplete, but there were
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*Trigger Warning* This chapter contains graphic contents.Breathless, he stood outside of Tony's residence. His throat was dry, as he swallowed in the sultry rage bobbing around his apple. He kept flicking his forefingers together. It was the witching hour, and he didn't care.
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His ribs convulsed with every breath as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands on his knees. Sweating profusely he tried to stand but rocked his way back to the bed. He felt groggy, a headache, was waiting for him along with the clutter of a new day. He stood and stretched his shoulders, twisted his neck and walked towards the studio.He'd find himself wandering around like a desert wind, without a place to rest. He tried to stay busy with something other than work- he knew that it was a bad idea to be enthralled by the
