Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Only Thing In An Empty House

The Ache stirred, and awoke. she stretched, flexing her claws in the mass of fabric beneath her, yawning. Small feathers were torn from the boa and floated in the air. She turned her tired eyes to take in her surroundings. The Ache's dark golden fur contrasted with the pile of clothes on which she sat: Sequins and silk, the white boa, and yards of lace. She nimbly hopped from the chair on which the clothes and been piled, and padded silently beneath the vanity, exploring the discarded heels, old make up, and fake eyelashes which had fallen there. The light came dimly  from the window of what was clearly a woman's dressing room.
     The curious Ache circled the empty room for a while, sniffing at old dresses, half-finished costumes, and torn photos showing a faded glamor. She batted an empty tube of lipstick around with her forepaws for some time before turning to head out the door, which has been left slightly ajar. As The Ache slipped into the hallway, the door swung shut behind her, causing the star which hung there to fall behind her. She turned, one last time, to sniff at the star briefly before moving on.
     At the end of the hallway, The Ache found a large, but windowless room, the walls lined with shelves, the floor cluttered with old papers, notebooks, and records. There was one large desk at it's center, but no chair. The Ache padded past photos of a young man, some smiling, some grim. She stepped on poems, and love letters, and paintings. The Ache seemed captivated by one in particular, and tore into it with her teeth, in that way domesticated things have, of biting and chewing with out eating. She was simply dismantling it.
     When the letter had been shredded to adequately small bits, each word removed from the next, The Ache jumped to the top of one of the shelves along the wall. From up there, she crept along the ledge, knocking over books, trophies, and plaques, each of which either spilled out it's pages, broke, or cracked it's glass facing. Unconcerned with the din of all her destruction, The Ache leaped quietly from the shelf to the desk. There an empty envelope sat, simply addressed: "Girl: (A)". This was all that sat on the desk's surface. So there, atop the envelope, The Ache settled in, curled into a ball, and slept.

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