[She turns, hair drawing against her face, flooded in the gold halo of the light behind her. The rest is black, black as ink, black as scorched motor oil spattered against the floor. Light and dark. Maybe she's the one between two worlds. But aren't we all, really?
Or is that really a woman at all?
She sees him; recoils.
Her hands come up, defensive.
No. Stay away.
The tops of the trees are sinking into the reedy, burned-out grass underfoot, and the sky overhead yawns wide and gray.
Don't. Don't!
As if on the strings of some unseen marionette, the dead bird begins to twitch.]
no subject
Or is that really a woman at all?
She sees him; recoils.
Her hands come up, defensive.
No. Stay away.
The tops of the trees are sinking into the reedy, burned-out grass underfoot, and the sky overhead yawns wide and gray.
Don't. Don't!
As if on the strings of some unseen marionette, the dead bird begins to twitch.]