Velvet night and brilliant spots of light stained the sky. The full bloated moon rose steadily, unwaveringly, carving its path up to the zenith. Silver wormed its way along every surface leaving an eerie glow behind; it shunned the creeping shadows as they undulated with every movement. Stolen breath whistled through the skeletal branches of the burnt birch; the clattering laugh of wood on wood resounded. The sundial slumped drunkenly at the centre of four large pavement slabs which were coated in grime and tufts of grass protruded from between the cracks. The once white faced marble of the sundial was cracked and yellowed like old parchment paper. The black numbers, whose paint was peeling revealing rusty metal, around the clock were raised and attached to the stone by a single screw at the centre of each number. The two on the number twelve had been knocked crooked and the eight was missing; it laid a few metres away half buried in the weeds and patchy grass.
The neglected wooden bench was liver spotted with age with the edges ripe and rotten. The damp boards would groan and creak at the lightest touch of a feather. Moss clings to the legs like ticks on a dog. Fungi hung on the underside of the bench seat leeching the colour from the planks.
A pale woman sat on one end of the bench; taking no notice of her dilapidated surroundings. Her dark brown hair hung down, obscuring her face. She wore a simple white summer dress which stopped just short of her knee. Her feet were bare. Delicate hands fidgeted with the hem nervously. Her form constantly flickered transparent at different time with different parts of her body like a TV picture with bad reception. Suddenly she stood and strode anxiously towards the sundial and lightly touched the number six of the sundial. A soundless sigh escaped her lips before she returned to her place on the bench and resumed fiddling with the hem; copying the same movements as before. After a few more minutes she returned to the dial again and copied what she did exactly as she had before. She always made the loop of movement, stuck in the same pattern forever; frozen within the same time frame of ten minutes.
© Copyright 2016 Addictedtobooks. All rights reserved.
Book / Fantasy
Book / Fantasy
Short Story / Romance
Paste the link to picture in the entry below:
Paste the link to Youtube video in the following entry:
Cannot annotate a non-flat selection. Make sure your selection starts and ends within the same node.
An annotation cannot contain another annotation.
There was an error uploading your file.