Crystal Lattice (1/?)
anonymous
October 19 2009, 04:17:00 UTC
0 minutes
Matthew isn’t sure if it’s the gradually diminishing pain suffusing through his chest cavity or the ringing of his cell phone that awakens him from his uneasy sleep.
He gropes blindly in the dark for his phone, squinting to try and read the time on his alarm clock without his glasses. 3:47 AM. Way too early to be woken up, especially when he has a meeting to attend in the morning. Through Matthew’s grogginess he dimly registers that his Caller ID reads “unknown name,” and he sighs in aggravation. If it’s some sort of prank call…
“Hello?” he answers through a muffled yawn, wincing when the pain in his chest spikes sharply at the movement. Bringing his free hand up to soothe the spot does nothing, and distantly, some part of him recognizes that the pain is somehow disconnected, too deep and too far for him to reach. He feels like he’s felt something like this before.
Fire licking at his chest, gnawing away at His capital while a blurry shadow screams shrilly into the smoke smothering the skyline.
Crystal Lattice (2/?)
anonymous
October 19 2009, 04:19:26 UTC
0 minutes
Time passes.
And Alfred is dead.
OoO
0 minutes
All he wants is for someone to tell him everything will be okay.
Pushing the door to Alfred’s house closed behind him, Arthur heads toward the master bedroom, trying in vain to ignore the creeping loneliness that comes with an empty home.
The sheets of the bed are rumpled, the comforter pushed back. Wind from an open window billows the curtains inward to catch on an overturned mug resting precariously on the window ledge.
A large spot of coffee blemishes the white carpet, will leave a stain that will linger, that will have to be removed, scrubbed clean.
In the dark, it can easily be mistaken for blood.
He wishes everything could be okay.
Arthur sits down on the bed slowly, grasping the blankets in his fists tightly and staring blankly out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just make out what looks to be a sheet of paper sticking out from under a pillow cradling a cordless phone, still on.
Fingers trembling, Arthur turns the phone off and tries to breathe deep
( ... )
0 minutes
Matthew isn’t sure if it’s the gradually diminishing pain suffusing through his chest cavity or the ringing of his cell phone that awakens him from his uneasy sleep.
He gropes blindly in the dark for his phone, squinting to try and read the time on his alarm clock without his glasses. 3:47 AM. Way too early to be woken up, especially when he has a meeting to attend in the morning. Through Matthew’s grogginess he dimly registers that his Caller ID reads “unknown name,” and he sighs in aggravation. If it’s some sort of prank call…
“Hello?” he answers through a muffled yawn, wincing when the pain in his chest spikes sharply at the movement. Bringing his free hand up to soothe the spot does nothing, and distantly, some part of him recognizes that the pain is somehow disconnected, too deep and too far for him to reach. He feels like he’s felt something like this before.
Fire licking at his chest, gnawing away at His capital while a blurry shadow screams shrilly into the smoke smothering the skyline.
A shuddering breath from the ( ... )
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0 minutes
Time passes.
And Alfred is dead.
OoO
0 minutes
All he wants is for someone to tell him everything will be okay.
Pushing the door to Alfred’s house closed behind him, Arthur heads toward the master bedroom, trying in vain to ignore the creeping loneliness that comes with an empty home.
The sheets of the bed are rumpled, the comforter pushed back. Wind from an open window billows the curtains inward to catch on an overturned mug resting precariously on the window ledge.
A large spot of coffee blemishes the white carpet, will leave a stain that will linger, that will have to be removed, scrubbed clean.
In the dark, it can easily be mistaken for blood.
He wishes everything could be okay.
Arthur sits down on the bed slowly, grasping the blankets in his fists tightly and staring blankly out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just make out what looks to be a sheet of paper sticking out from under a pillow cradling a cordless phone, still on.
Fingers trembling, Arthur turns the phone off and tries to breathe deep ( ... )
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The story is only leaving OP on the very edge of her seat.. And is hooked on it.
OP wishes for anon to continue!
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