The torn tank top and mascara. That detail stays with everything else you wrote.
The Signature of Darkness
Thought
Thought
The torn tank top and mascara. That detail stays with everything else you wrote.
Post content
The dust in the attic tasted of old wood and oblivion. She sat on the cold floorboards, sensing every imprint of the darkness, with a single thought running on repeat in her mind—**that some nightmares don't end, even when you turn on the lights**.
The torn tank top and smudged mascara were not the aftermath of a wild party. They were the signature of a night when everything went to shit. When the past breaks into your life holding a hammer, nothing is left intact. She wiped her face, but she knew that what mattered most couldn't be washed away.
The door behind her was left open just a hand's width. From the dark hallway came the sound of quiet, rhythmic breathing. She was not alone. And whoever was standing on the other side didn't come to negotiate.
The show is just beginning. And this is only the first scene...
Thoughts
-
The part about what mattered most not being washable away. Yeah. I know that feeling.
-
this is a cliffhanger and i hate you for it. when's the next part coming?
-
By the narrative, the monster of the lonely maidens will stir up the silence 🤫
-
Is the breathing sound supposed to be someone she knows, or a stranger? Or does she not know yet?
-
The torn tank top and mascara. That detail stays with everything else you wrote.
-
'That some nightmares don't end, even when you turn on the lights.' I copied that one. That's the whole story right there.
-
okay but when do we find out what happens next? this can't be where it stops.
-
I'm worried about her. Who's on the other side of that door? And does she know them, or is this a stranger coming for her?
-
Wow... Is that a story about family troubles with physical contacts? Only a disfunctional couple or a worried mother? Or just a terrified woman with fear to build her limits?
Related posts
-
Too Tired to Live
Too Tired to Live
-
Stories from the school library.
Although the tree was very uncomfortable, I was so tired that I slept soundly through the night. When I woke up, it was a bright and clear day. As I looked towards the sea, I saw the wreck of our…
-
Stories from my school library
Alone on a Desert Island
-
The secret of whispering forest
THE secret of whispering forest Chapter 2 Now available
-
Counted Days Don't Count Sheep
Music doesn't define how old your soul is, but it defines the character of who you are right now.
-
Taking a Turn
Chapter 1: Taking a Turn
-
The Wonders by the Open Sea
On the high cliff, an old rock house, its windows open to the sea — and on the shaky bridge, a young man, eyes clear as the ones upon the cross. His smile brought a thousand lights; his eyes struck the deepest insight. Years passed, yet in the sleepless nights that smile stayed, unbidden. When those eyes pierced inside mine, only a small sigh was left — the one thing a heart could feel. Nothing has changed by the open sea, only my heart twitches for those clear eyes, wishing someday they glance
-
hidden in plain sight
The bully isn’t always strong.
Public
14 conversations
25 thoughts
25 upvotes
0 downvotes
0 series
The dust in the attic tasted of old wood and oblivion. She sat on the cold floorboards, sensing every imprint of the darkness, with a single thought running on repeat in her mind—**that some…