Status: GeneCo, cleaning up the streets since 2030!
Drawn by the Glow
You Play, You Win
There was a constant running in her ears. Inside her brain ice fell down slow and drowsy like a snow globe. Shilo could hear it like a river running at freezing temperatures throughout her entire body. Too her, it had became a normal feeling, though more of a dull haunting over all.
When Shilo walked off of that stage she stood strong, but was she? That detail she cannot recall, though she knew she was not now. Over the course of a little over eleven months her hands still shook the same. The nightmares that replayed pools of cold blood hung as a fog wrapped around her head. It collected more and more. Similar to the making of cotton candy.
She had never tried cotton candy, she thought.
The front door had not opened much since then. Besides basically life packs sent from GeneCo, it was shut. The t.v. barely played of anything now that Amber Sweet was the new voice of GeneCo. Her voice was overly edited which made the words hard to figure out. All she could tell from the little bit the t.v. did tell her was the Largo siblings had no idea how to run the company.
Out of frustration she smashed the jars of bugs and picked apart the butterflies. She had visited every room in the house only to find painful memories. All the music in the house she knew by heart down to each note. The books she read from the bookshelf by the fireplace were painted red leaving a wall of crimson. Most of them being medical books since her Father did say he was a doctor. From skull to calcaneus she could tell you all the bones in between. Everything seemed boring.
She sat in her room with at it's broken things and dreamt of the moon. It was right outside her window, but for now it seemed only real in dreams. Outside freaked her out since she's been in a cage all of her life. When she did wonder out only trouble ever followed.
"I want to go outside." She sang while walking towards her bed. The house never seemed so big and vacant. She sighed and quickly turned away moving closer to her piano. "No, Shilo. You can't."
What if outside worsens everything? Honestly, she hadn't much to lose. If that was understood then what was anchoring her here? Her fingers danced over the keys of black and white. There was wax dripped over them leaving it stiff from the endless candles on the top of it. She wondered if she could even handle another shock or another dull day of nothing.
A faint sound echoed into the room from downstairs.
Knock knock . . . knock
The last was hesitant, but resonated greater than the rest. About two times a week someone would play tricks. Her guess was they found it funny to scare her. Little did they know not much scared Miss.Wallace anymore. She laughed at the thought.
What if they weren't mean though? She began to play a quicker song. What if this was the perfect opportunity to step foot outside? To breathe a whole new pollution of smoke and filth. Her face frowned then she shrug her shoulders. Hell, to breathe at all outside of these too familiar of walls. The house was becoming suffocating.
Knock knock knock
They weren't leaving as soon this time. Her heartbeat quickened and she started to bite her lip thinking. The song imitated the sound emitting from her chest. She sat on her bench and rocked back and forth dropping her hands. The knocking was now a playful beat.
She stood and nodded to herself before walking towards her closet. She pulled a dress over her head, then proceeded to locate her long black socks. She gave up the search to rush out the door before they walked away.
"Okay. I'm going to do it. " Her feet ran out the room and down the stairs stopping abruptly once near the fire place. There was no shadow seen out the tinted glass in the door, yet there was still knocking.
Knock knock kno-
Shilo pushed the front door open. It swung fast on the hinges with the wind and revealed . . . no one. There was no one there, but there was something. A wicker basket with a scrap from a table cloth tucked in. It had a parsley pattern with dark purple, jade green, and gold.
One foot after another she left the house. Her bare feet touched the concrete of the front porch steps with great caution. Inside, her heart pounded as if another step would end in death.
"H-hello?" Her eyes scanned the bushes closely. Not one branch stirred which gave her lungs the okay to breathe again. The basket contrasted with the dirty ground harshly causing it to stand out.
One, two, three careful steps and she was close enough to reach the basket. She leaned forward and outstretched her hands to grab it. A dog howled loudly a few houses down making her jump. Again, she tried for the basket retrieving it this time then ran to the door. Before re-entering her home she looked around another time.
"T-thank you?" was all she could stutter.
. . . .
The basket sat in front of Shilo on her bedroom floor. It was an antique with mud caked onto it. At a glance she could tell it was very ruffed up with missing weavings all around. The handles were barely hanging on along with some jewel adornments on the side. Where did they find this?
What was this about? Shilo's mind wondered of its contents and reasonings. On all fours her face hovered closely to the fabric. There was a darkly colored flyer placed on top.
For one day a year only, Sanitarian Square
will open its gates and welcome all of us to
its post-plagueItalian Renaissance!
She flipped over the flyer and found four words written in deep emerald, lazy penmanship.
You play, you win
. . . . . . . . .
When Shilo walked off of that stage she stood strong, but was she? That detail she cannot recall, though she knew she was not now. Over the course of a little over eleven months her hands still shook the same. The nightmares that replayed pools of cold blood hung as a fog wrapped around her head. It collected more and more. Similar to the making of cotton candy.
She had never tried cotton candy, she thought.
The front door had not opened much since then. Besides basically life packs sent from GeneCo, it was shut. The t.v. barely played of anything now that Amber Sweet was the new voice of GeneCo. Her voice was overly edited which made the words hard to figure out. All she could tell from the little bit the t.v. did tell her was the Largo siblings had no idea how to run the company.
Out of frustration she smashed the jars of bugs and picked apart the butterflies. She had visited every room in the house only to find painful memories. All the music in the house she knew by heart down to each note. The books she read from the bookshelf by the fireplace were painted red leaving a wall of crimson. Most of them being medical books since her Father did say he was a doctor. From skull to calcaneus she could tell you all the bones in between. Everything seemed boring.
She sat in her room with at it's broken things and dreamt of the moon. It was right outside her window, but for now it seemed only real in dreams. Outside freaked her out since she's been in a cage all of her life. When she did wonder out only trouble ever followed.
"I want to go outside." She sang while walking towards her bed. The house never seemed so big and vacant. She sighed and quickly turned away moving closer to her piano. "No, Shilo. You can't."
What if outside worsens everything? Honestly, she hadn't much to lose. If that was understood then what was anchoring her here? Her fingers danced over the keys of black and white. There was wax dripped over them leaving it stiff from the endless candles on the top of it. She wondered if she could even handle another shock or another dull day of nothing.
A faint sound echoed into the room from downstairs.
Knock knock . . . knock
The last was hesitant, but resonated greater than the rest. About two times a week someone would play tricks. Her guess was they found it funny to scare her. Little did they know not much scared Miss.Wallace anymore. She laughed at the thought.
What if they weren't mean though? She began to play a quicker song. What if this was the perfect opportunity to step foot outside? To breathe a whole new pollution of smoke and filth. Her face frowned then she shrug her shoulders. Hell, to breathe at all outside of these too familiar of walls. The house was becoming suffocating.
Knock knock knock
They weren't leaving as soon this time. Her heartbeat quickened and she started to bite her lip thinking. The song imitated the sound emitting from her chest. She sat on her bench and rocked back and forth dropping her hands. The knocking was now a playful beat.
She stood and nodded to herself before walking towards her closet. She pulled a dress over her head, then proceeded to locate her long black socks. She gave up the search to rush out the door before they walked away.
"Okay. I'm going to do it. " Her feet ran out the room and down the stairs stopping abruptly once near the fire place. There was no shadow seen out the tinted glass in the door, yet there was still knocking.
Knock knock kno-
Shilo pushed the front door open. It swung fast on the hinges with the wind and revealed . . . no one. There was no one there, but there was something. A wicker basket with a scrap from a table cloth tucked in. It had a parsley pattern with dark purple, jade green, and gold.
One foot after another she left the house. Her bare feet touched the concrete of the front porch steps with great caution. Inside, her heart pounded as if another step would end in death.
"H-hello?" Her eyes scanned the bushes closely. Not one branch stirred which gave her lungs the okay to breathe again. The basket contrasted with the dirty ground harshly causing it to stand out.
One, two, three careful steps and she was close enough to reach the basket. She leaned forward and outstretched her hands to grab it. A dog howled loudly a few houses down making her jump. Again, she tried for the basket retrieving it this time then ran to the door. Before re-entering her home she looked around another time.
"T-thank you?" was all she could stutter.
. . . .
The basket sat in front of Shilo on her bedroom floor. It was an antique with mud caked onto it. At a glance she could tell it was very ruffed up with missing weavings all around. The handles were barely hanging on along with some jewel adornments on the side. Where did they find this?
What was this about? Shilo's mind wondered of its contents and reasonings. On all fours her face hovered closely to the fabric. There was a darkly colored flyer placed on top.
For one day a year only, Sanitarian Square
will open its gates and welcome all of us to
its post-plagueItalian Renaissance!
She flipped over the flyer and found four words written in deep emerald, lazy penmanship.
You play, you win
. . . . . . . . .