Iridescent Spirits

Shelter of a constantly changing Soul.

The Panic Project #4: The Doll House

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The cool wind blows gently, flattering the dusty-white frills of my dress, but my fake skin cannot feel it. I am alive but there is no sound echoing in my chest. I can move my limbs, though everything is so big and far away, I cannot reach them no matter how hard I try. My breath gets quicker, though my lungs seemingly cannot get enough air in it. My chest hurts, though there is nothing in it. Only the unbearable weight of emptyness sits calmly on my shoulders. My bones would crack under it, though I can only feel the structure of a hand-made body relentlessly resisting any force.  

The whole world has become transparent and terrifyingly solid at the same time and I got lost in it. Like a huge cage, of which I cannot see or touch the cell bars.

Tears would roll down my delicate face but my shiny eyes remain as dry as a desert. When I try to speak my voice sounds like a far away whisper of a wandering stray ghost. I’m shouting but no one out there can hear me. I would run away but my short legs take me nowhere.

I am silent, sitting unmovingly with my emotionless face, deemed to ceaselessly wait for someone to take me with themselves. But who could be that someone? Who would want such a strange creature I have become?

This cannot be reality… Can it?

Next post on 4th April. Stay tuned!

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