Lena
New Member
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/cooltext152486758914286.png.849ba6d1eefa5033e364003d768e680a.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89513" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/cooltext152486758914286.png.849ba6d1eefa5033e364003d768e680a.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
The roads are perfectly paved. There's chalk drawings left by some child on the sidewalk under your feet. Birdsong drifts from the tall trees in the front yard. A mini-van drives past, going exactly the speed limit. A soccer mom's empty eyes stare straight ahead of her as she sits in the driver's seat. The sweet smell of flowers from one yard or another hangs in the air, a solid presence despite the breeze. It coats your tongue, insistent and even a little unpleasant. Still, the spring air is far more fresh here than in the city. Not as much car exhaust, no factory fumes...
Have you ever thought about how if someone screamed in one of the identical houses here, no one would hear it?
Another car blows past, music blasting too loudly for the neighborhood. It parks by third church in as many miles. A gaggle of goth kids hops out of it, forming a pack as they head inside.
There's something off about them, about the dead-eyed soccer mom, about the drawings on the sidewalk. Sometimes you think you're the only person in this neighborhood who bothers locking their doors.
It would be so easy for a monster to hide here, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say this place is teeming with them.
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/footer_city.png.4801dc8cea7e4e3760771eebc57ce0f0.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89514" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/footer_city.png.4801dc8cea7e4e3760771eebc57ce0f0.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
The roads are perfectly paved. There's chalk drawings left by some child on the sidewalk under your feet. Birdsong drifts from the tall trees in the front yard. A mini-van drives past, going exactly the speed limit. A soccer mom's empty eyes stare straight ahead of her as she sits in the driver's seat. The sweet smell of flowers from one yard or another hangs in the air, a solid presence despite the breeze. It coats your tongue, insistent and even a little unpleasant. Still, the spring air is far more fresh here than in the city. Not as much car exhaust, no factory fumes...
Have you ever thought about how if someone screamed in one of the identical houses here, no one would hear it?
Another car blows past, music blasting too loudly for the neighborhood. It parks by third church in as many miles. A gaggle of goth kids hops out of it, forming a pack as they head inside.
There's something off about them, about the dead-eyed soccer mom, about the drawings on the sidewalk. Sometimes you think you're the only person in this neighborhood who bothers locking their doors.
It would be so easy for a monster to hide here, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say this place is teeming with them.
<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/footer_city.png.4801dc8cea7e4e3760771eebc57ce0f0.png" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="89514" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_12/footer_city.png.4801dc8cea7e4e3760771eebc57ce0f0.png" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>
Attachments
Last edited by a moderator: