Her shoes were not at all proper for this event, but that’s what happened when you didn’t bake in time for a costume change. Luckily, the multiple floor length layers of her gown’s skirts would likely hide her mud-caked boots from view.
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Oil spread across the water, a portentous iridescence slicking the surface.
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Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, even as they yearned for light.
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She cast around for something to hide behind, settling on a potted palm by the window. Those fronds suddenly seemed fascinating. They were so green and so… frond-y.
“You know I can still see you, right?”
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She marked the passage of time by watching the glossy-bodied ants march back to their hill. A long line unbroken and every one in their place.
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The teeth were sepulchered in a black lacquered box on her night table. She listened to their whispers as she went to sleep.
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While doing something out of spite still resulted in something getting done, Amery didn’t want to share the credit with anyone else.
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Even though no one else was here, he was never truly alone. A shadow, darker than dark, fell over the pages he was reading.
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On nights when she couldn’t sleep, Mira would walk the empty street that led from her apartment building to the cemetery.
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Reef pixies didn’t usually need midwifing, but there was a first time for everything.
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