burialrabbits

Her hands tasted like dust. The length of her arms dusted me off and I sighed as if losing skin made a hollow breeze in the silence of the hall. I closed my eyes and could see the mantel hovering white and stark over a dark fireplace, and all the corners of the room were packed heavy with shadows.

So I pressed my fingers lightly into the blanket, and they sunk into and disappeared inside the billows of the fabric, and while I felt I could have kept pressing until all of me was that gone too, I listened to the wind howl through our skin and our bones. Somewhere just outside the front entrance there were animals scratching their claws into the thick wooden doors. But it would have to take a very long while to scratch so thoroughly as to break through. My eyes drifted, landing once again on the cold, dark fireplace.