Post by Ophelia on Jan 25, 2011 11:40:13 GMT -5
The house on Kline St. stood silent, fog wreathing around it. The door hung ajar, the driveway empty.
Inside, things appeared to be abandoned mid-activity mere hours before. The sink was full of half-washed dishes and the TV screen was on, though dark.
A young woman with auburn hair was the house's only occupant, strewn sleeping atop the bed in the guest room, fully dressed with her boots on. Her blue peacoat was on the floor in front of the bed, as if absentmindedly discarded.
She seemed peacefully unconscious, but there were a few disturbing objections to this idea. A trail of blood had dried from the edge of her mouth down her face. A bruise purpled on her cheekbone. Her arms were scratched and dirty as though she'd run through a thorn bush. Yet her clothes were untouched.
Ophelia slept on, unaware, in the empty house.
Inside, things appeared to be abandoned mid-activity mere hours before. The sink was full of half-washed dishes and the TV screen was on, though dark.
A young woman with auburn hair was the house's only occupant, strewn sleeping atop the bed in the guest room, fully dressed with her boots on. Her blue peacoat was on the floor in front of the bed, as if absentmindedly discarded.
She seemed peacefully unconscious, but there were a few disturbing objections to this idea. A trail of blood had dried from the edge of her mouth down her face. A bruise purpled on her cheekbone. Her arms were scratched and dirty as though she'd run through a thorn bush. Yet her clothes were untouched.
Ophelia slept on, unaware, in the empty house.
