Thursday's Child
folder
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,038
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,038
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Yellow Silence
Thursday’s Child
The Excitement in the End
Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
Chapter Four: Yellow Silence
The large, laurel wood door smelled of mold and dust. It was a strong scent, but she didn’t find it distasteful. She had just reached the double doors leading into the mysterious library and was leaning her head against the frame, looking to see if there was a sliver of light peeking through any kind of crack that would giver her some clue as to how to get inside; some way to find out what drove her here in her state of disarray. Seeing nothing but opaque darkness, the girl exhaled a heavy breath and smartly found her way down the steep steps from the doors and made her way to the sidewalk.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and could make out some unruly weeds snaking their way out from the cracks of the concrete when her breath caught. She was all of a sudden filled with something not air, but adrenaline it definitely was, filling her stomach with tiny flying creatures and pushing against her skin. She was growing slightly sick from the feeling in her veins and the sweat on the tiny hairs covering her skin, almost as if it were dew in the morning. When had it gone humid? She rubbed her index and middle fingers together against her thumb and felt the slickness there. It melded with some of the blood in her hair and she felt a bead of the bloody mixture roll down her forehead, drop down her nose and spilled from her cheek into her mouth in one smooth, constant motion, as if it was directed. She held the salty flavor on her tongue until her saliva washed it away and all that was left was the taste of metal.
From this point until her chest hurt from lack of breath, her eyes were wide with the feeling of the taste in her mouth. It was such a glorious thing. The feelings in her blood, the buzz from the rush was all catching up to her and the silence all around her made her ears ring that ring, the one that happens when everything is quiet, when you can only hear yourself think and the sound of your own breath. She closed her eyes as the blood fell from her face and the buzz of the streetlight finally reached her ears and combined with the jackhammer sounds already there. With an act of rebellion at the shock of going without food for such a long time, bile rose in the girl’s throat and burnt her tongue. Her body became drained of both blood and energy. Then with one more thought of the bloodless, lifeless thing in the alley, glowing in her mind, she collapsed. She fell sideways into the grass beside the library wall as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her nose began to cry red tears.
The rest of the day night crawled by in a terrifyingly loud buzzing madness as she lay there, curled up in the fuzzy grass, unconscious. Not a thing had moved since she had, not even a whisper of a breeze to tickle the grass to her cheek. Not a bird chirped as the jumpy star made it’s way over that imaginary line called a horizon and brought hazy yellow light to the silent and carefully still radius of where she lay. The cold impression on her cheek from the loudness of the night was quickly brought to life as the hushed heat from the light warmed it.
The Excitement in the End
Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
Chapter Four: Yellow Silence
The large, laurel wood door smelled of mold and dust. It was a strong scent, but she didn’t find it distasteful. She had just reached the double doors leading into the mysterious library and was leaning her head against the frame, looking to see if there was a sliver of light peeking through any kind of crack that would giver her some clue as to how to get inside; some way to find out what drove her here in her state of disarray. Seeing nothing but opaque darkness, the girl exhaled a heavy breath and smartly found her way down the steep steps from the doors and made her way to the sidewalk.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and could make out some unruly weeds snaking their way out from the cracks of the concrete when her breath caught. She was all of a sudden filled with something not air, but adrenaline it definitely was, filling her stomach with tiny flying creatures and pushing against her skin. She was growing slightly sick from the feeling in her veins and the sweat on the tiny hairs covering her skin, almost as if it were dew in the morning. When had it gone humid? She rubbed her index and middle fingers together against her thumb and felt the slickness there. It melded with some of the blood in her hair and she felt a bead of the bloody mixture roll down her forehead, drop down her nose and spilled from her cheek into her mouth in one smooth, constant motion, as if it was directed. She held the salty flavor on her tongue until her saliva washed it away and all that was left was the taste of metal.
From this point until her chest hurt from lack of breath, her eyes were wide with the feeling of the taste in her mouth. It was such a glorious thing. The feelings in her blood, the buzz from the rush was all catching up to her and the silence all around her made her ears ring that ring, the one that happens when everything is quiet, when you can only hear yourself think and the sound of your own breath. She closed her eyes as the blood fell from her face and the buzz of the streetlight finally reached her ears and combined with the jackhammer sounds already there. With an act of rebellion at the shock of going without food for such a long time, bile rose in the girl’s throat and burnt her tongue. Her body became drained of both blood and energy. Then with one more thought of the bloodless, lifeless thing in the alley, glowing in her mind, she collapsed. She fell sideways into the grass beside the library wall as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her nose began to cry red tears.
The rest of the day night crawled by in a terrifyingly loud buzzing madness as she lay there, curled up in the fuzzy grass, unconscious. Not a thing had moved since she had, not even a whisper of a breeze to tickle the grass to her cheek. Not a bird chirped as the jumpy star made it’s way over that imaginary line called a horizon and brought hazy yellow light to the silent and carefully still radius of where she lay. The cold impression on her cheek from the loudness of the night was quickly brought to life as the hushed heat from the light warmed it.