12-23-2018, 01:26 PM
She hated the dark.
Hated the thing she became in the dark.
It was why she was just standing there alone. Because she was a skeleton, all clacking bones as the skin sloughed off her and her hair fell out in clumps. Even a mother couldn’t love a freak like this that became worse than the walking dead at night. So she hated the dark.
But the dark loved her!
It made the skeleton-foal gleam in the faint light of the moon and a few stars. She looked nightmarish but beautifully so, even at such a tender age. Soft smooth bones, still growing and not pockmarked by injury or time. Until she moved - -
Each step was disjointed and jangly.
Why? Because skeletons dance! They don’t just walk and trot like any old horse. She - poor thing was just a sad sad girl - danced, it was jarring and grotesque but it was a dance as long as midnight held sway over the land. Dances until the first rays of the sun peeked over the eastern edge of the horizon.
When the sun rose to its fullest, the hair grew back in upright tufts from her neck and her skin once more clothed her bones from sight. She lay curled up by herself in the grass, panting and tired from the night before and all the maniacal dancing.
@[The Plague]