• creative writing

    To Be Afraid

    To Be Afraid P.V.7/18/2020 Atrocity births a candle: a series of wispy dancers artfully evading the skeletal shadows that curve about them to cast the umbra of my veins upon the rows and rows of literary antiquity. The pallor of my fingertips caressing the backs of powdery spines, however, is not captured by the crooked flame so much as sensed by the peculiar chill. My hands are traversing the titles almost involuntarily, or so it seems, for the sedated wires within my head ignite a dull sort of electricity behind the crimson vessels of my eyes and the feverish dampness of my skin. Alert, but not quite awake, not quite…