The Dark.The dark,
The all consuming dark,
Never ceasing, never ending.
Nothing to do but sit in the dark.
Trapped in the dark,
Left in total abandonment.
The light had disappeared, and I could see nothing.
The only light.
The taste of stale bread lingering in my mouth.
I closed my eyes, there was no difference
Here in the dark.
Sounds echoed loudly, was I alone?
Or was there something lurking
There in the dark?
They aren't coming back for me.
Trapped in the dark.
Aeropia: PrologueMillie lay awake, staring at the ceiling above her. She watched a little droplet of water as it grew into a shiny drop. When it got too heavy to hold its own weight, it fell with a plink into the pot she'd put on the floor beneath it, the sound echoing through the perfectly still air. Then the next little droplet grew and followed the last. It was too quiet. Millie could hear the groaning of the house, the scratching of a mouse underneath her bed, the plink, plink, plink of the water. It wouldn't let her sleep. She found a small amount of comfort in her mum's gentle snoring from the next room. But it couldn't completely lift the eerie silence.
A scream sliced through the almost silence. Millie bolted up in her bed. It was followed quickly by a horse's whinny. It wasn't a scream. Orkie. Millie raced to her window and threw back the shutters. It was too dark to see anything; the moon was hidden behind angry, swirling clouds. There was more whinnying, and banging, like the horses were try
Golden Gray in New YorkNew York from the perspective of Golden Gray in the style of E.B. White.
The train rattled towards the city. I'd heard about it; people called it the City of Dreams. Anybody could do anything and nobody was a nobody. New York.
I expected the high-rise skyscrapers would be peeking over the horizon any time now. People said it was magical there. They said the blacks and whites were all mixed up together there; crammed into the city like tinned sardines. Like they're all the same, equal. I wondered what it would look like, seeing all those people passing each other in the street like it was nothing special. It was this that called to me. It was perfect for me. Not white. Not black. Somewhere in between. True Belle had called me Golden. I think I was just made wrong. Too wrong for the South to accept me that is...
The train staggered to a halt at Grand Central Train Station. People swarmed like bees on the platform, bustling around carrying brief cases and suit cases. Trunks were being off
Her and MeI looked at her.
Skirt swirling around her ankles,
Glossy hair curling its way
To her slender waist.
Huge, blue eyes.
I looked at myself.
Short cropped hair,
Orange tunic, and trousers,
Hanging off my now skeletal form.
Disguised as a man.
He looked at her too.
Thinking his thoughts.
Now I'd lost him.