She stood at the top of the stairs frozen in her step. She could hear the beating heart swoosh in her ear. Every house sound was amplified. The mice were scurrying loudly. All of them.
The clocks were ticking and ticking. She had no idea she had clocks that could make such a noise. The pipes seemed to be churning. Her ears swooshed, on repeat. The ice dropped loudly. She disliked ice. But now was not the time to be obsessed with the clinking sound of ice.
She stood at the top of the stairs wondering whether to move. Everything was so dark. But perhaps that was just her soul.
All noise stopped. She was relieved. It was ok. It was going to be ok. She turned back away from the stairs smiling at her fears. Her heart stopped racing. She turned back as her sleeve was caught on something heavy.
Then she saw it was all real. And then thereafter the screams never stopped again.
Categories: architecture, mental health, photography, Psychology, weird, writing prompt
But, why aren’t she fast encough
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Hmmm. Why, indeed…
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Ok
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Ugh that moment when
Bump in the Night Becomes Trump In
Broad Daylight
Polls indicate
A Real Thief
In the Night
May not be
Necessary
Like Dorian
To Blow
Away A
DarK
Thief’s Home..;)
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Oooooo! NICE!
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Thank you!
Happy weekend
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You got me in the end. That really surprised, no shocked me. Good writing.
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Awww. Thank you for your kind note 🙂
Cheers
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I love the enigma in this poem. It could be psychological or it could be a real danger. I love that this leaves us to decide. Great post
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