![]() ![]() Tommy flinches at nothing but their own memories – another sting. The very thing that got them in this situation is tight against their chest, a comforting pressure, but it makes them feel sick to their stomach at the same time. Bees die after one sting, and it’s the same words piercing them over and over. Their mother’s screaming echoes in their head, stinging like a particularly angry bee. ![]() Their father’s disappointed expression flashes behind their eyelids with each blink. The pinpricks of light that the stars dust across against the night sky are ignored as Tommy stares ahead at the pavement, continuing to force one leg in front of the other. Thick, drifting clouds fracture the moonlight into thin slivers muted light bounces off the snow-blanketed rooftops where the streetlamp glow doesn’t reach. The wind cuts through Tommy’s clothes and bites at their skin. They have to move, they have to keep moving. ![]() ![]() Tommy doesn’t know where they are, but they keep walking. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |