The shaking continues, worse than ever: walls cracking apart and melting back together again, floors buckling and splintering upward, only to subside as the ash-black of the inner house spreads outward to engulf them. Worse, the remaining colors and shapes in the room seem to be softening and melting like chalk drawings in a hard rain, flowing into the rising blackness.
Perhaps I will alter the whole thing. Kill both children.
(There is no Daisy here, no Delial to rescue or fail to rescue. Just the two of them, and the house, thrashing blindly in what could be death throes or birth pangs or both.)
Murder is a better word.
The floor is sliding back under Brian's feet like a treadmill gone mad, pulling him back two paces for every pace he advances.
no subject
(God I've never been afraid like this.)
The shaking continues, worse than ever: walls cracking apart and melting back together again, floors buckling and splintering upward, only to subside as the ash-black of the inner house spreads outward to engulf them. Worse, the remaining colors and shapes in the room seem to be softening and melting like chalk drawings in a hard rain, flowing into the rising blackness.
Perhaps I will alter the whole thing.
(There is no Daisy here, no Delial to rescue or fail to rescue. Just the two of them, and the house, thrashing blindly in what could be death throes or birth pangs or both.)Kill both children.
Murder is a better word.
The floor is sliding back under Brian's feet like a treadmill gone mad, pulling him back two paces for every pace he advances.