The dying sun’s golden light falls on the silhouette of a being seated at a table. The strong shadows envelop it in a shroud of darkness as it bends its head and types on. With each word, its hunch seems to lessen but the head remains lowered.
The sun sets.
Darkness is all that spills through the window, leaving the laptop screen to illuminate the bones in the figure’s face. The pale silver-blue light throws in stark definition manic eyes, a frown, and a desperation to prove oneself. The slim bone structure and the frizzy, wavy hair mix in with the blue, turning paper-like. Momentarily the figure looks like a skeleton- corpse, a zombie slaving away. Turning, you peer into the face before reeling in shock, one hand coming up to cover your racing heart. Your eyes hold the same crazy light, overshadowed by fear. The figure, that corpse-like sorry thing, is you.
Your lips open of their own violation as you try to back away, yet a morbid curiosity stops you.