1 Dusty Memories

Particles of dense, downy dust collected around my limbs as I pressed into the mist of it benevolently. I sank so slowly down the delicate dimension of hazy feelings; I was so drained. This beckoning pillow of comfort teased my nerves with buzzing kisses, then nothingness.

Before long, the whispers started to coat my senses again, seeking mutilation of the leftovers in my head. They descended deeply into my consciousness. "Please". I wanted to stay in this dusty memory forever. The only part of my life I could truly get lost in, and I needed to be lost.

Morning dew on my window pane speckled the surface, it's cold touch so shocking to my finger tips as I rose from my soft pile. I gripped the frame, hoisting myself to look through. Was this... a new day? Predictability was so painfully bundled into each day, it felt like they rolled into one foreboding lump. Pigeons passed my view; Must be 6am. I waited for their mind-bruising purrs to bombard me, each birdy hum getting increasingly exasperating.... Nothing. Oddly, noise felt like a sin on this day, seemed as if the birds sensed it too. Swamping anxiety glooped around my stomach in efforts to deter me from leaving my isolated world, but I had to enter beyond the icy glass of my panes at some point.

*Clink* My lock flicked out and my peeling door stood grandly ajar. Oh bloody hell... I inhaled the fresh air of bitter disappointment. I was outside. I fashioned a long lavish gown of the deepest greens, my dark hair knotting in an untamed manner down my back. Forcing my tongue between my lips to tear them apart, I dissociated deeply into the bleak view before me. "Please"

Abruptly, my head tossed to detach the murmured whisper. How long had I been standing there? I lowered my chin and began to walk, stiff steps and grinding stones combined to make an unpleasant descent.

I ran my fingers through my fringe which was grazing my eyes, the silent soggy atmosphere ahead, awaiting my presence. I strolled past a drooping figure, the stench of body odor evaporating from his sunken skin. On his shirt wrote "Missing: Pam Reel". His eyes begged a conversation as they jotted to me, blood shot and gunky. I assume he had no sleep, but from me what did he want? A reassuring glance? False hope is a torture technique in reality that only the weak use when nothing else can be said. I passed him without a second look.

My socks slowly got damp whilst walking through the rains residue, my eyeslashes progressively collecting light droplets similar to dew on spiderwebs. "Its not good you know" a smooth voice rippled through the heavy air, casting an illusive spell upon my attention.

I turned my head to the side, letting one eye simmer over the offender. A tall, slim woman leaning on a cane, eyes drunkenly piercing me,

licked her lips and gestured to my shoes. "The rain?" I inquired, a brow raised. A visible smirk leeked through her face, I detected a smudge of crimson lipstick seeping above the cupids bow. Red was a comforting colour, a heated contrast to our sombre surroundings.

She reached out one hand, fingers strangled in hoops of silver, and brushed back a coarse tight coil. "Your shoes are covered in moth holes, how soaked must your socks be?"

I tipped my head down and let my hair drown my face, dark tentacles sensually curving around my bone structure. As I anticipated, my once white pumps were now a mixture of battered grey clumps and the imprint of a moth wing. My cheeks grew warm, my eyes watered and twitched as the droplets seaped through my lashes and pooled into the deep irises. "It's not much a pain" the sentence whispering through my dry lips, darting my vision toward her and further burrowing my brow. What did it matter to her? I felt my jaw tighten after that, my shoulders stiffened at the obscure encounter. I just wanted to leave, yet she was captivating. My hazy deterent glistened over my eyes, shutting down and feeling my pulse gradually slow; dust ran through the breeze in a synchronised motion. I breathed in. I breathed out.

The woman tilted her head to the side, a blur of curiosity, a psychedelic concern drilling my skull. My knees grew weak, untrustworthy. I felt a gentle breath tenderly morph around my neck as my vision blackened, I imagined smoke crawl and lick my skin. A familiar voice cut through this nostaligic moment. Where was I... What's happening..