| The first part of my latest short story. Enjoy! |
The Man in the Music Box, One
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The Man in the Music Box, 3“Maybe today?”The Man in the Music Box, 3
She opened the box. Nothing. A month had passed, and no matter what Anna did, Avarice would not show. Outside, the snow coated the world with a blanket of pure white chill. Inside her room, however, mascara tears stained her pale cheeks. She sat on the edge of her bed, the door closed, in a black evening gown, her hair in an intricate braid, and high stilettos on her feet. She took the box from her lap and set it on the bed. Standing up, Anna began to pace around her room.
“A month. Why hasn’t he shown? Maybe he’s busy. Maybe I’m not pretty anymore.” She ran ove
by ~matchmymittens
The Man in the Music Box, TwoThat night, Anna lay in her bed, watching the clock. One more minute, she thought, just one more minute to be safe. Finally, after the longest minute ever recorded, the clock showed a time of eleven fifteen p.m. Anna shot up. She threw the covers off her body and jumped out of bed.The Man in the Music Box, Two
She paused for a moment, listening. No noise, good, she was still safe.
Kneeling down slowly, she reached under her bed. First, Anna pulled out a large, black flashlight, and sat it on her bed. Secondly, she gently removed the bird-covered music box. This she held close to her chest as she sat back down on her bed, legs crossed, with the box sitting i
by ~matchmymittens
The Man in the Music Box, One"So she's really dead, huh?" "Anna, please." The frigid north air whirled around them as they unloaded the boxes from the trunk. "But she was like a legend! Ninety seven years old, never married, no kids... She didn't even have a cat!" "Maybe she just didn't like people." Anna's mother stacked one box on another and brought them into the antique shop, placing them in front of the sales desk. The glass case and cash register that sat on top of it were two of the small amount of things in the shop that weren't drenched in age. "No, that's not it." Anna copied her mother and brought the rest of the boxes insidThe Man in the Music Box, One
by ~matchmymittens
Alyxisby ~matchmymittens
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Please, Stop TalkingReally? Do you have to talk? Don't your jaws hurt? Your obnoxious voice is like finger nails on a chalk board, except on my brain. Your laugh is almost like hubcaps grating along pavement sparking little flames to ignite my hatred for you being. You incredulously even toned inflexions drive me up the wall because you voice indicates it wantn to change, but hell, it can't even do that. Your long winded explanations of unnecessary information could probably overload a computer... and they have a lot of memory. Volume? Oh my gosh, doPlease, Stop Talking
by ~Acting-Out
For my friend...
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: College
- Interests: Writing, reading, day dreaming, learning new languages, cosplaying, and listening to music.
- Favourite movie: Beauty and the Beast
- Favourite band or musician: The Spill Canvas
- Favourite genre of music: Alternative/Indie
- Favourite artist: Caspar David Friedrich
- Favourite poet or writer: H. P. Lovecraft
- AIM: romance a hazard
- MSN: burningbluerose@hotmail.com
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