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Summary
The Literature Club is a place for safety, warmth, and shelter. The four girls who sculpted it swear it is.
But what would they need shelter from, anyway?
It's sunny outside.––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Fragile finger trace upon the glass–
The glass of being, wrapped tight to hide any loose ends.
Press harder, feel skin give way to bone,
Hear the crumbling as you break.Still the butterflies flutter,
Still the sun shines,
Still the glass stays right where it's been.You could press until you bleed,
Until red stains the pane,
But even as your fingers break,
You’ll never see a loose end.You'll buckle, bend, and ache,
Become origami–a part of the quiet at last,
And you’ll never know how close you came
To shattering,
To slipping through.––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Bookmarked by redsrrws
15 Nov 2024
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Summary
Lady Samanan Anantrakul was many things in the eyes of her employees. Cold-blooded. A savage. Emotionless. Ruthless. Brutal. A tyrant. A sadist. A smile full of horrors. A face full of dead muscles. And perhaps Lady Sam was all those things…to them…
- Language:
- English
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- 67/70
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Bookmarked by redsrrws
22 Sep 2024