User:Annasky11

I write, and sometimes when I’m sitting, a sudden sentence will pop into my head, telling me the continuation of it. A basic structure, I think I can write, I can write till all the words run dry. My only desire was to become a writer, looking out at the snow clad mountains while I sit in a cosy cottage with the arrival of spring as my company. He was sleeping, his eyes laid to an eternal rest. He looked utterly peaceful, doesn’t the word ‘utterly’ seem chaotic to you? I look at his face, the face carved out of marble, a secret smile playing on it. I smile back, even though I knew he couldn’t see me smiling. How much had he longed for it, the smile with the crooked teeth? I would never know what made him long for me, love me in a way no-one had. He had been my perfection, his deep-set eyes, and his half-smile that could make the ladies swoon. His lean body, chiselled on stone. I look out of the window, looking at the leaves, following its mundane path as it joins its comrades. What happens after you leave the shell cast on you by birth? Do you feel the burden leaving your shoulders? Or do you feel yourself weighed down as if with thousand stones?

My life is simple, giving itself a new name. I have no complaints, I feel happy and as free as a bird. I have a love for the morbid tales, I find myself searching and looking at macabre words and feeling certain warmth and calmness. As I stroke his face, she calls; I look up, stare at her face, a vision of beauty. Her hair flows down her back, curling itself in her warmth; her eyes twinkle as if she just learned about a secret. Her perfect, round lips have a certain fullness that made men go weak in the knees. I wish I could be like her, that I wouldn’t be scorned for having this thought. There is a day when I will rule too, and she won’t have any word to say about it all. There was going to be an awakening soon, a waking of the senses. He was still asleep, and I frowned, he had been asleep a long time, but I won’t stop stroking his perfect features. It was like an addiction, being near him.

I knew that when he looked at me, he saw something amiss, yet he chose to be with me, forever. Forever is a terrifying word, isn’t it? It’s a life full of uncertainties, insecurities and jealousies. It has always amused me how jealousy can soon turn into blinding rage. I have never experienced that, I am a rather timid girl, a girl with plain features, a girl with dreams, fantasies taking her out into the world she has never seen. I hear voices, I look at the door, confused as to why I’m being disturbed at this unearthly hour, and I don’t want to be disturbed. They will take him away from me, I am sure of it; they don’t want to see a girl like me beside him, do they? I clutch at his hand, closing my eyes, as the voices keep getting closer.

I open my eyes to see the corpse lying in front of me, there is no cottage. I’m amazed at the darkness; there was a window, high above me, through which the moon peeked inside. The lifeless eyes stared at me, a secret smile playing on its lips. I look around me, at the iron door in the corner. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why am I in this disintegrated cell? What have I done? I’m a writer, a writer! I hear something, I move closer to the corpse. I close my eyes. A sudden wind blows, and I think I just heard someone say, “Welcome home, my darling.”