『"They call her '𝒴𝑒𝓊𝓇𝒾' or say she's one."』✰
『"Why?"』
『"Because you can't see her, she's a ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ.』✰
Started on: 14 /05/23
REWRITTEN ON: 27/10/23
Finished on: ??
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Yeuri The name of a calm female Ghost, who can be aggressive when triggered.
༺♥༻
A serpentine road stretched ahead, etching its way through a landscape tinted with shadows and the muted palette of dusk. The random car i was inside, a mere capsule hurtling through time and space, held within its confines a narrative unraveling in the fabric of mundane moments.
As a vehicle coasted to a reluctant halt beside me, an intrusion disrupted the cocoon of indifference I had crafted within the four walls of my borrowed sanctuary. A familiar voice, laced with familial warmth and concern, reverberated through the silence like a resonant chord. The window pane bore witness to the percussion of an insistent hand, an impromptu symphony that coerced me into acknowledging the world outside my self-imposed exile.
"Hermana!" The echo of fraternity pulled my gaze reluctantly from the confines of my solitude, made me sit up and look out the car's window. Rodolfo, a figure from the web of familial ties, stood with his silhouette etched against the dimming sky while tapping on the car's window, a beacon beckoning me to relinquish my solitude. The creak of the car door, a mechanical yawn, heralded my emergence into the realm of human connection.
Struggling against the inertia of my solitude, I stepped onto the terra firma (land/ground), my feet anchoring themselves in the ephemerality of the moment. Rodolfo's eyes, a reservoir of unspoken queries, scanned my reluctant form. The disjointed narrative of my presence unfolded with each grunt and grumble, a symphony of protest against the inertia that sought to anchor me in place.
"I saw you in the car, why aren't you out with them?" Rodolfo's voice, a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of my internal monologue, sought understanding amidst my struggles. "Long fuckin'—" The breath of a sigh escaped my lips, a prelude to the prologue of an untold tale.
"—Story," I completed, my words tethered to the cradle of exhaustion and the physical toll of undisclosed chapters etched into my flesh.
Rodolfo, a silent partner in this dance of dueling narratives, extended his arm as a lifeline. My hand, a hesitant traveler, found sanctuary draped over his shoulder, while the other clung to the handle of the car door—an anchor that sought to keep me from becoming untethered in the sea of my own uncertainties.
"You need to be more careful, if you die.. i don't even know what wil happen." Rodolfo's words, a refrain whispered by the winds of concern, permeated the air as he guided me toward his Jeep. The whispered promises of camaraderie wrapped around my senses like the tendrils of familial bonds that refused to be severed. "Please, it'll take a bunch to kill me." i said smugly.
