Blank Slate

I ventured into the town no one speaks of to lose myself in its darkness. A trail of whispers followed me until finally being struck with silence. I stood among the abandonment, closed my eyes and waited.
 
Dribs and drabs of floral winds rotted away as the monsters welcomed me. Prying my eyes open I found mirrors of judgment surrounding me and a girl devoid of a face in my reflection. A tear inches down my cheek seeing the blank slate I prayed for.

A guttural growl presented long wiry fingers engulfing me into the bete noire opening below me.

Andrea Allison currently writes and resides in a small Oklahoman town. You can follow her on Twitter at @sthrnwriter.