*pkbitch
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ImageryThe smell of impending rain hung in the air. They gray haze drowned out the once vibrant colors of the playground and a cold wind silenced the quiet laughter of the children who were now nothing but a mere memory. The only sound to be heard was the pathetic creaking of a decrepit swing set crying out for a squirt of oil. The high-pitched screeching was not caused by a movement of the chilled and apathetic air, but generated from a small child. The youngster slumped limply in the chair, her raven hair hiding her from the world, her eyes drained of their usually vivid emerald color. The only thing that separated her form an abandoned rag doll wImagery
by *pkbitch
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