The wind whipped around like a whirlpool of liquid lust, carrying cascading streams of dandelion pods along the small, crooked path that was shrouded by overgrown, twisting weeds, intertwined with soft, mud-coloured twigs, standing slanted like tiny, falling oak trees. The air was filled with the sickly-sweet scent of rotting flowers, led across the grass like the wilting corpses of green-skinned fairies. Roaring gushes of thick air whistling through compressed spaces rustled through the night, as if sparking the stars to life, providing the crashing, seething fuel, allowing the tiny, flame-coloured jewels to flicker and catch light like a million, tiny candles, spiraling in delicate cadences of shimmering, moldy orbs in the deep, dense ocean among the clouds.
A stifled cry split through the night like a platinum knife dripping with white blood, tearing apart the serenity of he bowed, creaking trees that appeared to be bent over as if in conversation, the subtle irony of the swinging, wooden benches, with hands made of vines clutching around the planks, holding on, as if they were pushing the chairs themselves in a state of perpetual motion, as the seats themselves were left untouched, and left devoid of purpose, stated in the centre of a glistening, hell-bent cemetery. A hand clawed at the earth above, clutching at handfuls of damp, worm-ridden earth, their needless attempt to escape failed, and their desire to set themselves free from their dark, clammy prison hanging unsatisfied.
A silent, silver river rippled through the centre of the odd, little graveyard, running with glimmering, metallic-skinned fish that leapt from and delved back into the icy, convulsing water. The heat of the sky oozed off of the liquid in translucent strands of thin, white smoke. The presence of the smoke was inconsequential to the presence of the fish, as it neutralised the putrid and pungent smell of decaying flesh. Padded footprints disrupted the recently-settled tranquility - the night had been a peaceful one, with little disturbances, besides the unidentified scream - and the small burst of wind that followed could have been interpreted as the night sighing, disgruntled by the constant interruptions of its sweet, bitter and beautiful play of the darkest life.
A stifled cry split through the night like a platinum knife dripping with white blood, tearing apart the serenity of he bowed, creaking trees that appeared to be bent over as if in conversation, the subtle irony of the swinging, wooden benches, with hands made of vines clutching around the planks, holding on, as if they were pushing the chairs themselves in a state of perpetual motion, as the seats themselves were left untouched, and left devoid of purpose, stated in the centre of a glistening, hell-bent cemetery. A hand clawed at the earth above, clutching at handfuls of damp, worm-ridden earth, their needless attempt to escape failed, and their desire to set themselves free from their dark, clammy prison hanging unsatisfied.
A silent, silver river rippled through the centre of the odd, little graveyard, running with glimmering, metallic-skinned fish that leapt from and delved back into the icy, convulsing water. The heat of the sky oozed off of the liquid in translucent strands of thin, white smoke. The presence of the smoke was inconsequential to the presence of the fish, as it neutralised the putrid and pungent smell of decaying flesh. Padded footprints disrupted the recently-settled tranquility - the night had been a peaceful one, with little disturbances, besides the unidentified scream - and the small burst of wind that followed could have been interpreted as the night sighing, disgruntled by the constant interruptions of its sweet, bitter and beautiful play of the darkest life.