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Sep. 25th, 2012 02:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
liptonrmLa la la, more post apocalypse. I think I'm going to call this "Time Flies." That has a nice ring to it.
Listen
The birds sang as she broke into a stranger’s house. Her hands shook as she pushed open the unlocked door, barely-controlled panic crawling under her skin. She needed to eat, she needed to sleep, she needed things she couldn’t even remember anymore.
The house felt empty, that hollowed out and expectant feeling that homes had when their families were gone. Old mail and magazines were piled on the nearest table and a few shoes littered the floor. Whoever had lived there had meant to come back.
The water in the kitchen faucet still run and Anne took huge, gulping drinks, using her hands to scoop it to her mouth. It dribbled down her chin and soaked into the neck of her t-shirt. She didn’t think water had ever tasted so good.
The cupboards weren’t full but there was peanut butter and some stale crackers to dip into the jar. She ate as she rummaged through the rooms, digging through closets and dressers. She found a pair of shoes that almost fit and a wealth of socks and toiletries: a new tooth brush, band-aids, soap, deodorant.
A glint of gold caught her eye and she stopped for a moment to pick a necklace up off of the floor. The leaf pendant twirled in the air, the metal glowing in the sunlight. She put it down carefully on a nearby table, she didn’t need it and she couldn’t take it. It wasn’t good to take mementos from the dead.
She pulled the cushions off of the couch and rearranged them on the floor, more comfortable there than in empty beds still full of other people’s dreams. A chipmunk chittered, shrill and angry, through the closed window as her eyes drifted shut. She just needed a little sleep.
Touch (Previous) < - > Moon (Next)
Listen
The birds sang as she broke into a stranger’s house. Her hands shook as she pushed open the unlocked door, barely-controlled panic crawling under her skin. She needed to eat, she needed to sleep, she needed things she couldn’t even remember anymore.
The house felt empty, that hollowed out and expectant feeling that homes had when their families were gone. Old mail and magazines were piled on the nearest table and a few shoes littered the floor. Whoever had lived there had meant to come back.
The water in the kitchen faucet still run and Anne took huge, gulping drinks, using her hands to scoop it to her mouth. It dribbled down her chin and soaked into the neck of her t-shirt. She didn’t think water had ever tasted so good.
The cupboards weren’t full but there was peanut butter and some stale crackers to dip into the jar. She ate as she rummaged through the rooms, digging through closets and dressers. She found a pair of shoes that almost fit and a wealth of socks and toiletries: a new tooth brush, band-aids, soap, deodorant.
A glint of gold caught her eye and she stopped for a moment to pick a necklace up off of the floor. The leaf pendant twirled in the air, the metal glowing in the sunlight. She put it down carefully on a nearby table, she didn’t need it and she couldn’t take it. It wasn’t good to take mementos from the dead.
She pulled the cushions off of the couch and rearranged them on the floor, more comfortable there than in empty beds still full of other people’s dreams. A chipmunk chittered, shrill and angry, through the closed window as her eyes drifted shut. She just needed a little sleep.
Touch (Previous) < - > Moon (Next)