and then when she turned, I saw the source of it all. Pinned to her back, the dreamcatcher trailed pools of darkness. Black beaded up, dripping down the sinew, she hadn't washed it in awhile. Or maybe...
It flowed out as she walked, rippling towards unsuspecting passersby, clinging to their clothes and hair, to go unnoticed until dusk. She had to have known. She had to. They never would.
hmm...interesting.
ReplyDeleteYeah, like, nothing beats little things like that. Nothing. I love it.
i really really like this...it makes me think :)
ReplyDelete