let me take you to the place from where you can see children's hands stretching up to the sky from the ferris wheel, let me take you to my daydreams.
let me show you the world as orion sees.
writing : [2021]
feb 18 (2'14 pm) - july 25 (2'30 pm).
po...
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from the lady who didn't give up.
firewood biting the newspaper of july, the suburban scents are haunted with a nefarious crime, everyone knows but no body speaks their mind, they lock their houses sharp at 7'05 every single night, cause the headlines of the day goes :
trust no other; not even a neighbor, if the windows shutter, it's not the wind or a waver, tiptoe to your bedroom as fast as you can, breath low or they'll hear you faintly pant, dial a number that could save you, try to become as lifeless as a statue, make one noise, they will come to catch you.
the sirens were behind the clock, they caught a glimpse of your face, because the curtains had swayed the deadliest way, the police was a moment too late, they looked at you and smiled; a cheshire vice, teeth broken and sullen eyes, they came a step close, murderers greeting you from your window.
you take a step behind, chills trickling down your spine, they speak blather about their lives; a haunting moonlight glistening their knife, is this it? is this how you die? you wonder; and they're assured you might, prideful credence was just your vex, you thought just before you stabbed skewers in their chests—
screams had never sounded more relieving before, the police had finally broken in your front door, serial killers lay bleeding on your wooden floor, the town can finally sleep in peace once more, and you became an exemplar of suburban lores.
∞
A/N : second part of ravings of a madwoman, and i hope you enjoyed. happy sunday ♡.
