→ pretend the dove from above is a dragon & your feet are on fire
It was Halloween.
Even dressed like she had been spat out by a Coppola film, Thalia wasn't unprepared. It was bad form to take a day off, even if it was dedicated to candy eating and merriment. She was a girl who loved horror movies (not to mention her mother had been in a few back in the eighties). She knew better than to believe that everything would stay sunshine and roses.
She had just stepped away from the party, to catch some air and clear her head of all of the seriously dubious costumes she had seen. Why did most women associate Halloween with sluttiness? Didn't they get that the virgins were the ones who lived to the end of the film?
Maybe that was the point. It wasn't something she wanted to think about too much.
Something caught her eye and she headed towards it, walking right into it without meaning to. She had only meant to get a closer look. To survey the scene. It was too late now. Definitely too late.
The world smelled like death. The hazy, smokey scent of blood and fire and rotting flesh. Everything was still and a little too silent. The air had the quality of an evening storm. It wasn't light enough to see much or dark enough to fully adjust. She knew this place. She had seen it during those days when she had fallen out of the tree, had been haunted by it during her time spent both in death and out of it.
In the distance someone screamed. Whipping around, she froze, hands reaching for weapons that weren't there. "Run!" she shouted having a terrible feeling that it was too late. Her suspicions were confirmed by the Cyclopses rising over the battered hill. "Run!"
Even dressed like she had been spat out by a Coppola film, Thalia wasn't unprepared. It was bad form to take a day off, even if it was dedicated to candy eating and merriment. She was a girl who loved horror movies (not to mention her mother had been in a few back in the eighties). She knew better than to believe that everything would stay sunshine and roses.
She had just stepped away from the party, to catch some air and clear her head of all of the seriously dubious costumes she had seen. Why did most women associate Halloween with sluttiness? Didn't they get that the virgins were the ones who lived to the end of the film?
Maybe that was the point. It wasn't something she wanted to think about too much.
Something caught her eye and she headed towards it, walking right into it without meaning to. She had only meant to get a closer look. To survey the scene. It was too late now. Definitely too late.
The world smelled like death. The hazy, smokey scent of blood and fire and rotting flesh. Everything was still and a little too silent. The air had the quality of an evening storm. It wasn't light enough to see much or dark enough to fully adjust. She knew this place. She had seen it during those days when she had fallen out of the tree, had been haunted by it during her time spent both in death and out of it.
In the distance someone screamed. Whipping around, she froze, hands reaching for weapons that weren't there. "Run!" she shouted having a terrible feeling that it was too late. Her suspicions were confirmed by the Cyclopses rising over the battered hill. "Run!"