Love Kills
One
It was a Saturday night. Angel was lying on her stomach on her bed. Her room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few candles. The rain was running down the window. It was dark outside. You could see the lights from the nightlife of New York below.
Her room was pink and plastered in posters and newspaper cuttings. She had a large mirror, surrounded by white star shaped fairy lights, which sat on a desk which held all her cosmetics. She had a wooden floor & on that sat a thick white flurry rug. She had two huge double wardrobes, all full of clothes.
She took a long draw on her joint, flicked the ash into the ashtray lying beside her on her bed, as she exhaled she flicked open her diary. She stubbed her joint out in the ashtray, leant over & put it on the floor. She picked a pencil up from the pot on her beside table & began to draw. She at first started drawing stars in a swirly sky. Then she added more detail, drawing, rubbing out. She worked into the night, pouring all her thoughts & feelings into this picture.
Once she finished drawing, she became aware of her surroundings, most of the candles had gone out and it had stopped raining.
She closed her diary and sat up. She padded over to the door and flicked the switch. The lamps around the room lit up as did the fairy lights framing her mirror. It had just turned 2 am. She went through to the bathroom, quickly undressed and showered.
She took out a neatly folded pair of pyjamas and put them on, smoothing them down against her body, took of her make-up and blow dried her hair.
She turned off the lights, climbed into bed and blew out the last candle.
Her room was pink and plastered in posters and newspaper cuttings. She had a large mirror, surrounded by white star shaped fairy lights, which sat on a desk which held all her cosmetics. She had a wooden floor & on that sat a thick white flurry rug. She had two huge double wardrobes, all full of clothes.
She took a long draw on her joint, flicked the ash into the ashtray lying beside her on her bed, as she exhaled she flicked open her diary. She stubbed her joint out in the ashtray, leant over & put it on the floor. She picked a pencil up from the pot on her beside table & began to draw. She at first started drawing stars in a swirly sky. Then she added more detail, drawing, rubbing out. She worked into the night, pouring all her thoughts & feelings into this picture.
Once she finished drawing, she became aware of her surroundings, most of the candles had gone out and it had stopped raining.
She closed her diary and sat up. She padded over to the door and flicked the switch. The lamps around the room lit up as did the fairy lights framing her mirror. It had just turned 2 am. She went through to the bathroom, quickly undressed and showered.
She took out a neatly folded pair of pyjamas and put them on, smoothing them down against her body, took of her make-up and blow dried her hair.
She turned off the lights, climbed into bed and blew out the last candle.