MABEL
Sam’s tale already had Mabel shaking as soon as it’d begun; too closely connected to sisters and water, to the never-ending wake of drowning, to the sentiments of losing someone cherished and close. By the time it ended her eyes had become rounded saucers and the images had been too much to bear. And she immediately wanted to leave; her fingers trembling, curling back over one another, her knees brought up to her chest, hiding, hiding, hiding from the memories of the waves in her mouth, tossing and turning her about like nothing. As if she were dust and soot and ash, bone and figments, little drowned girl waiting for the fluid in her void to simply give up and give in.
She stood, abruptly, whole body unyielding. “I have to go now.” And without explanation, she slipped out of the confines, a shuddering, shaking mess, eyes downcast, limbs rigid, until she could reach the door, and peel away, back into shadows and heartache.
{Mabel out!}
She stood, abruptly, whole body unyielding. “I have to go now.” And without explanation, she slipped out of the confines, a shuddering, shaking mess, eyes downcast, limbs rigid, until she could reach the door, and peel away, back into shadows and heartache.
{Mabel out!}
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
You will find things that you don't want to see
