“  𝑰'𝒎  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒈𝒖𝒚.  ”  He  repeats  her  words  in  a  matter - of - fact  tone.   “  Max,  but  I’m  sure  someone’s  told  you  that  already  –  code  words  would’ve  been  better,  but  I  guess  the  people  I  work  for  don’t  really  think  that  far  ahead.  ”   He  takes  a  cautious  step  forward.   “  If  you  were  expecting  someone  cooler  and  way  more  mysterious  …  well  uh,  sorry  to  disappoint.  ”

𝑇𝐻𝐸  𝑇𝑌𝑃𝐸  𝑇𝑂  𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐼𝐶𝐸  𝐺𝐿𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸𝑆  𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅  𝑇𝐻𝐸  𝑆𝐻𝑂𝑈𝐿𝐷𝐸𝑅.    it  suggests  suspicions.    she  enjoys  it    too  much    -----   getting    close   on  a  job.    playful  ,   faux  clueless   ,   sliding  into  the  spot  beside.    ❛   don’t  tell  me  you  keep  looking  towards  that  door  because  you’re  waiting  on  a   DATE    now  .  .  .   i’m  here.   ❜

❛    𝐶𝐴𝑁  𝑌𝑂𝑈  𝐵𝐸𝐿𝐼𝐸𝑉𝐸  𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸  𝑊𝐴𝑆  𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅  𝐴  𝐷𝐴𝑌    i  refused  to   brush  my  hair   ?    like  ,   that  was  some  sort  of   statement   .  .  .   ❜    a  cringe  at  the  thought  alone.     ❛    i  should  be  feeding  you    hush  money    to  be  honest  ,   i’m  sure  there’re  photos  out  there   .  .  .    off  our  yearbooks  you  might  make  mint.   ❜     an  air  of  jest  contradicts   ,    the  slight  glimmer  of  seriousness  behind  those  eyes.

𝚆𝚄𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂 .     the wildness of open spaces .  withered trees with limbs like spiders . abandoned homes .  two souls that are the same .  dying young . the ghost of a girl .  revenge that does not satisfy .  tapping at the window .  knowing too much of the pains of others .  cruelty that doesn’t fade .  an unresolved past .  marrying ,  but not for love .  rolling hills .  hair flying in the blustering wind . sudden illness .  disinterment .  the deep pain of loss . carrying a namesake that is not your own . facing a storm head on . an accent thick upon the tongue . a figure on the horizon ,  shrouded by mist .  ageing walls and rotting floorboards .  intruding upon the wake of destruction . wasting away . together in death .

𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝚈𝚁𝙴 .      the madwoman in the attic .  candle-flame and burn stains .  soft laughter .  a fire roaring in the hearth .  silence in the halls .  folded hands over modest skirts .  the pain of being wronged .  a wedding interrupted at the altar .  dark brows .  a horse riding up the path .  the isolation of a church .  gray skies .  landscape as bleak as your soul .  finding sanctuary .  a bird flying free from its cage .  discovering your worth . returning to a place that feels like home .  falling in love in spite of yourself .  schoolyards full of children . lying in bed while clasping a loved one’s hands in yours .  hopeless prayers .  hiding in an alcove to read .  timid but strong .  being true to oneself above all .

𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙺𝙴𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙸𝙽 .      grand prose .  the glory of nature .  playing god .  the spark of madness that drives creation .  stripped down to shirtsleeves .  the gritty streets of the city . staying awake too long . snow-capped peaks .  retreating from society . innocent recollections that become twisted .  a lost paradise .  lightning across a dark sky .  to be destined for one alone .  shouting from the top of a mountain .  strewn corpses .  the implements of a surgeon scattered across a surface .  a bride on her wedding night .  books left open to gather dust ,  pulled from shelves .  dark circles beneath the eyes .  the deathly pallor of a corpse .  things alive that shouldn’t be .  desiring a love of your own .  feeling your soul restored with a bliss that cannot last .  icy terrain .  unsatisfactory endings .

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙷𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙾𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰 .      the long ,  fatal crack across a mirror .  unearthly voices echoing through the dark .  a duet .  snow falling against statues of angels .  the lament of a violin’s strings .  resurrected hopes .  the sensation of being watched .  candles blowing out on their own .  masquerade revellers .  unrequited love .  the snapping of a noose .  an obscured face .  the scintillating light of an ornate chandelier . mysterious and inexplicable catastrophes .  watching your dreams shatter .  curtains drawing back from a stage .  devils that are angels .  a soft kiss on the forehead .  scratches of red ink . long capes and gloved hands .  retreating to the rooftop .  being led in a trance .  love as your undoing and your salvation .

𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙴𝚈 .     the turrets of a gothic mansion made of stone .  portraits looming above the stairwell .  suspicion of all around you .  dreaming of grandeur ,  awaking to normalcy .  the sound of a carriage coming up the street .  top hats and fine suits .  dancing at a ball .  the lavish throes of society . the thrill of being introduced .  a mystery that goes ignored .  chests that harbour secrets .  old love letters .  thumbing through the pages of a novel .  disappointing the one you admire .  the appearance of indifference . having your heart played with .  grand rooms housing past memories .  mistaken first impressions .  affluent personages .  kissing in the garden .

𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰 .      your life draining out of you .  a castle on a lonely precipice .  fog spreading through woodlands .  dutifully kept journals .  enthusiastic correspondence with one you love .  blood dripping down the chin . a tongue stroking sharp teeth .  the howling of wolves coming closer .  wreathes of garlic hung about the room .  rosary beads and crucifixes .  violence that spans centuries .  tall figures that cast long shadows .  disturbing the silence of a grave .  the sensation of leaving your homeland .  not dead ,  only sleeping .  last wishes .  a long and arduous journey .  an ominous ship at sea .  the sound of shovels in the basement .  eerie lights that obstruct your path .  goblets of blood red wine .  a stake through the heart . to be at peace at last .

𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐼𝑍𝐸𝐷  𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐸𝐿𝑆  𝐶𝑂𝑁𝐶𝐸𝐴𝐿  𝐻𝐸𝑅  𝐸𝑌𝐸𝑆  ,    the  better  half  of  her  features.   all  but  a  red  painted  signature  smirk.     ❛   so  you’re  the    guy   right?    do  you  people  not  use     CODE   WORDS   or  anything ?   i  always  thought  that  was  ,  like   .  .  .   a  thing.   ❜

❛   𝑅𝑈𝑁  𝐷𝑂𝑊𝑁  𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐶𝐴𝐺𝑂   .  .  .   if  we  shoot  here  ,   we’ll  get  points  for    authenticity.   ❜     as  far  as  hollywood’s  concerned  ,     authenticity’s  worth  its  weight  in  gold.    blips  of  it  so   RARE   they  were  to  be  cherished.   ❛   critics  positively  eat  it  up.    it’ll  put  this  little  diner  of  yours  on  the  map.   ❜