absence.

    Today (March 6, 2020), Connie Amelia May Hall was found dead in the bathroom of her own home. There are no signs of force entry or anything that would insinuate that someone else was in the house with her. It’s figured that she died on her birthday (March 3, 2020) and her body was found three days later, today, by her husband. All evidence leads to suicide. Connie leaves behind a remarkable impression on those she has ever interacted with along with a loving husband and two children. Rest in peace, Connie.

(see below for more details)

    there are things that go bump in the night  ,  the stories always tell.    what they keep a secret is what will go make all that noise in the night.    as humanly possible the assumptions become things that can devour because their hour of hunger has begun.    the hunger preys on the vulnerable    ------------    the weary eyed.

    what the stories don’t tell are the lost souls in the night who aren’t hungry or angry  ,  but are simply  lost.

here,  frail - handed and trembling;  the fair ophelia, slipping closer to the edge of madness.   there are ever so many troubles now,  only the details are hazy,  indiscernible.   her mind wanders in a frantic pace.    “  what troubles me is  –  ”    she is thinking of letters and the flowers she presses between their pages.   she is thinking of becoming something vile.

there’s always a lull before greater woes come to surface.   how quiet it was then;  the silence is peaceful before it grows somber.   she is thinking of her father (cold, commanding) and her brother (absent, ignorant).   she is thinking of being something they’ll hate.   

a breath hitches taut in her throat,  she feels it closing in as she tries to speak.   “  how can something both virtuous and shameful?”   there is some spiteful nature in her that she doesn’t dare to speak of.   but it isn’t enough to only exist in thought.

    there is knowledge stored within her that she keeps gated up in the ribs caged in her body.    there is something so delicate about love and one single dirtied hand to mishandle it causes a falling amongst others.    with the quaking of her hand lies the thoughts that grind to produce the questioning.    as connie holds the hand of another troubled being  ,  she looks with content to ophelia and she can see the gears grinding too hard.    she’s thinking and thinking too much.

    someone has misconstrued the mural of love for her already.    she is so young and inexperienced and that is only because there must be some kind of shelter being held over her head.    women like themselves can’t be held hostage by another’s hand.    irritation begins to sprout within connie.    ❛      that’s  because  they  don’t  let  us  make  our  own  opinion  on  it.      ❜

     ❛      yes  ,  they  do.      ❜    connie doesn’t deny it.    love is meant for those who can handle it.    love shouldn’t be in the hands of the reckless.    with love comes a heart and a mind.    she thinks the body in love should come last as that’s not what the whole of love is about.    love isn’t one sided or something to leave alone in bed so it wakes up one morning to find itself alone.

    the question didn’t have a  yes  or  no  answer.    the answer will remain as  always.    there is not a soul uninvited in her house  ,  especially the ones that are close to her heart.    but someone may ask  ,  why such a wicked little girl  ?    they’re silly for asking such a question because connie doesn’t see that in such a young girl.    even if it’s true.    connie isn’t here to fix or train ellie into someone tasteful of the tongue.    she is here to provide a home.

    ❛      goodness  ,  no.    i  have  another  room  upstairs  with  a  bed  and  lots  of  blankets.    the  guest  room  is  where  you  can  stay.      ❜    there is a furl of her brow as she hears of the heinous offer.    the concern doesn’t last long as there’s a smile growing now as she thinks of all the things they could do together.    when connie was younger she didn’t have the chance to do all of that with other girls   ;   they either despised her or she thought they did.

@delirous··   asked    :

❛   you’re   all   caught   up   in   your   work ,       do   you  make   time  for  anything   else ?   ❜

glasses  rest  on  the  table  next  to  the  keyboard.   he  looks  like  he  hasn’t  showered,   it  might  answer  her  question  before  he  can  even  open his  mouth.   words  on  a  screen  are  the  only  neat  thing  in  his  surroundings.     ❛   all   i  have   is   my   work.   ❜   and  a  daughter  who  loves  you.   but  right  now  she  is  only  a  ghost.  a  residual  memory  in  a  great  big  house.   her  mother  keeps  her  these  days.     ❛  this  work,   house  work.   ——    which  reminds  me.  ❜   he  forgot  to  lock  the  shed.  lanky  limbs  push  him  up.   a  near  hollow  frame.  as  if  he  was  made  of  bird’s  bones.  but  don’t  mistake  this  figure  as  fragile.     

accepting !

    keen senses already jot down signs of unrest.    the glasses near his typing heads and the hair that seems to be sticking to each other.    he  hasn’t  showered.    seeing a place so disorganized isn’t unfamiliar to her  ,  but having it be done out of the competition to stay awake is.    clutter in her home is keepsake.    ❛      but  what  if  you  run  out  of  work  ?      ❜    somewhere there’s an honest question  ,  but a well mannered point beside it.    as another soul around a tired one  ,  maybe that’s all she is.    words.