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The Weird Chick

Mila and Joel

August 5th,2015


Teal-tinted green carpet lined by thin metal bars met with pale pink wallpaper, textured almost like corduroy, though not at all soft, almost like dried dripping paint. Watercolour strokes in softly saturated hues spackled the popcorn walls in geometric patterns, sitting in sharp contrast with the fluorescent tubes above. The suspended ceiling tiles were a subtle, pale aged yellow, stippled with grey. Beneath the buzzing of the industrial lights came the lower hum of laboured breaths, of whispers to ghosts, and of grumbled frustrations. The air contained an ever-present smell that could, with effort and prolonged exposure, be tolerated, but never accepted.

White-washed wicker furniture sparsely adorned the small room: two chairs and a table, a dresser, a twin-size bed, a bed-side table with a small lamp, and a bench for two, perhaps three if they’re small or very friendly. Cushions in a soft cantaloupe orange adorned with yellow triangles and green lines provided little comfort on the chairs and the bench, though they did match the curtains. A small, old tube TV sat on a white shelf, suspended somewhat haphazardly from the ceiling. With the cheap check-out aisle universal remote, the TV could switch from basic cable channel to basic cable channel at will.

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Aberlynn: Year of the Fall

January 8th,2014


Strung from the lamps of the town were ruffled lengths of old furs, coated thickly in a sparkling ice. A bitter cold had passed, leaving the lands encased in thick, crystalline ice. Doors and windows were shut tightly, sealed around the edges by the same ice. A blanket of snow had frozen solidly to the ground, and above it was a light layer of dusting snow that had blown on the tail end of the winds. Everything stood perfectly still and undisturbed. An uneasy silence hung over the frozen village, with not even the smallest wisp of smokey, warm air sneaking from the houses. There were no footsteps in the snow that rested on the ice.

Punctuating the lifeless quiet, a loud cracking sound echoed briefly before it was absorbed into the precipitation. It was followed by a choir of cracks and pops as the bitter winds left the town. The silence that had held the town as tightly as the coating of ice had vanished in a moment as the warmth fought back against the cold. The battle had been fought many times in recent days, the cold retreating briefly before returning with an increasingly stronger resolve. The town was worn, the walls of the houses eroded by the fierce storms.

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