Advertisement
Guest User

Untitled

a guest
May 30th, 2017
58
0
Never
Not a member of Pastebin yet? Sign Up, it unlocks many cool features!
text 1.14 KB | None | 0 0
  1. My mother was a weary sorta woman. She worked ferociously throughout the day. Her hair became frizzy, oddly grey and out of control. As were her hands - fingers once slender and feminine now weathered - filed down in favour of stumpy blunts. They became wrinkly and no longer elegant.
  2.  
  3. The thin velvety veneer had eroded with conditioning; its creamy varnish had been lost to the many layers of thickness which ensued with each labour of toughness. Splintered and grey, she had departed the texture of a rose.
  4.  
  5. Her skin sunk around her bones. They drooped around the elbows, soon becoming sharp flagpoles holding up a melting tent.
  6.  
  7. She moved anxiously, fearing the world would come down on her, pacing everything with purpose and rigidity, her emotions dictating the wearing of her soul.
  8.  
  9. The morning began as it has for many years -- Shirley wakes up, gliding to the bathroom in her peasant gown like a ghoul. Splashing her face with water, she washes away the confused crustiness in her lids. And slowly, the towel peels downwards. She takes a quick glimpse into the mirror -- reality is seeping through the fog and her hollow face begins to haunt her.
Advertisement
Add Comment
Please, Sign In to add comment
Advertisement