x-posted from tinylies.org
I think I’ve finished the actual writing part for “Pain”. It’s only supposed to be a short response to a writing prompt, so I didn’t really go into detail or spend a lot of time on world-building, but I’d like to eventually revisit it sometime in the future. Motivation is always such a problem for me, though.
Take, for example, this post. I should be taking pictures right now to finish the whole damn thing off, and instead, I’m dilly-dallying about on wordpress, talking about what needs to be done as I actively avoid doing it.
Anyway, American Horror Story the other night was pretty decent. Gonna need significantly more Dandy and Gloria, and if I could get a scene of Dot impaled on a stick that is later revealed to be Maggie’s perforated corpse, I would be ever so grateful.
The house they arrived at seemed to be feigning abandonment. The yard was unused and phantom quiet, as still as a cemetery; the exterior was freshly painted and the front porch glowed in the eerie light provided by a small lamp outside of the windowless door. And yet there remained an uneasy suggestion of hollowness, as if though, despite the house’s tidy outward appearance, inside it would offer nothing but empty rooms and dusty sadness.
“Who lives here?” Bella asked, rubbing nervously at her bare arms.
“The Grunt family,” Olive responded, nodding at a dimly lit window where a blonde woman drifted past like a wraith. “The youngest son is terminal.”
Bella shivered, thinking of her own young son and praying that she’d never be called to her own front door on such an unhappy mission. “Can we save him?”
“No,” Olive said, softly. “That is not our place. But we can unburden him.”
For a long, tortured moment, they lingered on the cement path, side-by-side as they prepared themselves for the task before them.
Finally, Bella looked to Olive, and her eyes were burning from the inside out. “I don’t like pain.”
“No,” Olive shook her head. “But who does?”