And the darkness confounded with slate skies, seen through beguiled eyes, encapsulated the withering warmth of a morbid mother’s womb with impending inertial doom.
For so long as the rickety chair wavered on splintered boards, the ligneous echoes of life creaked weakening tunes with tiny skeletal sticks on an invisible tympanal membrane.
Anonymity claimed her frigid fingers as she scribbled in a foreign language the daunting memories of a sadistic stranger.
Elusive echoes of a dull drum filled her mental chamber like melancholy stew in a cast iron cauldron.
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