She had been working on her 10,216th pot holder when it happened. (No one seemed to find it odd that it said the same thing, "Quick! Pick a color from 1 to 10!") The winds, the rain, the lightening...the noises scared her and she screamed, trying to jamb that pot holder into her ears.
Doctors and orderlies came running, running from everywhere. Men in white coats and squeaky shoes, she hated the smell of antiseptic. "Oranges would be nice for snack, don't you think Abby?"
Was that voice in her head again, or was it Jamie, that nutcase that liked to paint her? It was Jamie. She liked oranges, too.
Thunder rolled, the windows burst inward, sending flying shards of glass into Jamie's eye. Bye bye, Jamie. Abby laughed and kissed Jamie's cheek, tasting blood, forgetting about the noise.
Doctor's rushed to Jamie's side as Abby stood and wandered to the broken windows. There was a twisting, violent storm right outside the Asylum. Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Abby liked the way it rolled around in her mouth, like a sweet chocolate egg at Easter.
The winds howled again, but she was too fascinated and transfixed to hear them. Or maybe, it was because the storm was here for her. Maybe the storm made her deaf to it, so as not to frighten her too much. Abby didn't care; all she knew was that it was calling her name and it had a pretty pink bow!
Giggling like a girl, Abbey clapped her hands, the sound was silent because of the pot holder still clutched in her fist. She handed this to the swirling vortex of wind, rain, and flashing violet streaks of lightening. It seemed to accept, becuase one minute Abby was there, and the next, she and the storm were gone.
Abby awoke in a void, a blackness so thick it was palpable. The sniffed, and spoke, but nothing came out. She wondered casually if this was a vaccum, then wondered how the hell she knew what a vaccum was. With smooth features contorted into a painful frown, Abby tried to stand. Her head ached from the fall, and then....she opened her eyes. Oh! Silly girl, it's not dark, your eyes were closed.
Laughing at herself, Abby stood, dusted herself off, and noticed she was wearing the same thing she wore the day she killed him. Black tank dress, black and white stockings, and a top hat. She blinked in the dimming light and saw that she was in the middle of a street, an empty one.
Abby turned around and around, surveying her surroundings and laughed. She was free! That storm with the pretty pink bow had set her free! Poor Jamie, but, oh well. The girl was truly nuts anyway. Not like Abby, Abby was sure she was fine.
Padding along the street, singing a lullabye to herself, Abby tipped her hat to passers by and winked at the small, dirty child that tried to pick her pockets. She closed her eyes and made a wish, and the child soon had a handful of chocolate kisses. There. Good deed done for the day.
Now? Time for Abby to find someplace to sleep. She was tired from her flight. Was this what jet-lag was like?
Doctors and orderlies came running, running from everywhere. Men in white coats and squeaky shoes, she hated the smell of antiseptic. "Oranges would be nice for snack, don't you think Abby?"
Was that voice in her head again, or was it Jamie, that nutcase that liked to paint her? It was Jamie. She liked oranges, too.
Thunder rolled, the windows burst inward, sending flying shards of glass into Jamie's eye. Bye bye, Jamie. Abby laughed and kissed Jamie's cheek, tasting blood, forgetting about the noise.
Doctor's rushed to Jamie's side as Abby stood and wandered to the broken windows. There was a twisting, violent storm right outside the Asylum. Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Abby liked the way it rolled around in her mouth, like a sweet chocolate egg at Easter.
The winds howled again, but she was too fascinated and transfixed to hear them. Or maybe, it was because the storm was here for her. Maybe the storm made her deaf to it, so as not to frighten her too much. Abby didn't care; all she knew was that it was calling her name and it had a pretty pink bow!
Giggling like a girl, Abbey clapped her hands, the sound was silent because of the pot holder still clutched in her fist. She handed this to the swirling vortex of wind, rain, and flashing violet streaks of lightening. It seemed to accept, becuase one minute Abby was there, and the next, she and the storm were gone.
Abby awoke in a void, a blackness so thick it was palpable. The sniffed, and spoke, but nothing came out. She wondered casually if this was a vaccum, then wondered how the hell she knew what a vaccum was. With smooth features contorted into a painful frown, Abby tried to stand. Her head ached from the fall, and then....she opened her eyes. Oh! Silly girl, it's not dark, your eyes were closed.
Laughing at herself, Abby stood, dusted herself off, and noticed she was wearing the same thing she wore the day she killed him. Black tank dress, black and white stockings, and a top hat. She blinked in the dimming light and saw that she was in the middle of a street, an empty one.
Abby turned around and around, surveying her surroundings and laughed. She was free! That storm with the pretty pink bow had set her free! Poor Jamie, but, oh well. The girl was truly nuts anyway. Not like Abby, Abby was sure she was fine.
Padding along the street, singing a lullabye to herself, Abby tipped her hat to passers by and winked at the small, dirty child that tried to pick her pockets. She closed her eyes and made a wish, and the child soon had a handful of chocolate kisses. There. Good deed done for the day.
Now? Time for Abby to find someplace to sleep. She was tired from her flight. Was this what jet-lag was like?