Madeline Rose
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Stories (5)
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A Little Death
1. I knew I was done with illusions when my Mother smelt something dead in my brand new basement bedroom. I had yet to smell anything, but she’s always sensed these things far sooner than I, and perhaps always will. This probably accounts for her constant melancholy disposition despite any newness, goodness, or excitement in life. Something dark always awaits, even in the shiniest of times, maybe most especially in those times - where we hold our breath in waiting for the guillotine to fall.
By Madeline Rose 4 years ago in Families
Catalyst
I wore a lot of white in the days after he lost his head. As if the blank, innocent color erased all the things he blamed me for, all the things I'm still unconvinced are not my fault. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, because only I was there- only I could see his eyes glazed over and foreign. Something was in him that he’d never met before. If he could have kept it at bay or saved me from it in any way, I believe he would have. Though laws of nature are stronger than human wishes. Wood sitting on the hearth, doused in oil, has no choice but to burn. My words, my actions, the colors I wore, had no say in the spreading of a raging fire.
By Madeline Rose 4 years ago in Humans
