ancient. (Becoming Dust)
One to Want : Countdown to Escape
The moment the young girl stepped one foot inside the ancient house, everything felt familiar, like a surge of dejavu, no, more like, a messy crashing wave of it that came from all direction causing all that was supposed to be recognizable to be nothing more than incoherent.
Such is the strangeness.
As if she belonged there even before the place was born, that extent of familiarity. Almost frightening.
She was even afraid to let her skin on the tip of her smooth fingers to make any contact with the pale, parched walls that bore the traces of long faded moldiness.
How could the sense of connection felt so impossibly tangible? Surely she's far more younger than the abandoned building, isn't she?
How could she she felt at home here, of all places, more than anywhere else?
How could she feel...ancient?
Comments