The Darkness - Original Writing

When we arrived at Miss McBride’s an hour later, the coffee was brewing and places were set for us at the table with her fine bone china, the antique silver from a chest in the dining room, and linen napkins the color of snow.

The brisk wind rustled the leaves and the branches murmured. The morning had been chilly and opaque, with a curtain of drizzle sweeping across the plains. The decaying morality and despair of humanity has affected the weather, or have I just ceased being able to see colour?

As he heard her footsteps approaching the bottom of the staircase he took a moment to take in his surroundings before transitioning himself to the small coffee table beside him which was accompanied by a small cup of tea sitting on a thin pile of stained paper. He began write: A New

It was almost as if the world had become brighter, more alive. She saw the moon glowing through the window behind the armchair, and felt as if she had been jolted awake from a deep sleep. An electric shock- painful, stinging- spread throughout her body, and made the image of Reesa screaming in front of her very vibrant. But Marya could not hear her screams, nor her pleas of mercy from the large, muscular dark figure that held her back from reaching Marya’s hand, from taking comfort in her one and only friend’s reassuring touch. She saw Reesa’s father step out from behind the muscular man, baring a wicked grin, and whispering vengeance into her ear, but she did not hear

Set across their great table was his wife, Ms Stillon. Seated still and poised indignantly, Ms Stillon was the exact opposite of his jealousy. Almost a living thing, it shifted and sat uncomfortably within his paunch. They ate in near-silence, the stillness punctuated by his terrible rage, which she was oddly enough, unaware of.

Macy sits back in her chair and imbibes her cup of tea, and tries to forget read as her muse. This time was transient, but she felt as if she was always toiling with the unflattering feeling she had on this moment.

Asami groaned in the darkness, the grogginess of her nap hanging over her like a storm-cloud. She stretched, splaying out across her bed, not quite sure which way the bedhead was facing, or whether or not she was still on her bed or simply curled up in her sheets lying on the floor. The alarm on her phone screamed through the room.

She was seated at a garden table set for two and looked at the menu. All she wanted at this point was a small cup of coffee and nothing else. She looked out onto the streets of Rome as she watched the people walking by and the lovers surrounding her. As she took a deep breath of the freedom she felt from exposing the secret that was hidden for so many years, she also smelled a familiar

Although there was the familiar, homey feeling of peace, there was also a sense of apprehension that would not go away. Muriel headed towards Sister Leta, the cook who was busy toasting homemade wheat bread and percolating the coffee. Muriel started serving coffee and toast to those who wanted it. There was no current information at this point about what had occurred, or to explain the light, yet there was growing concern. Even though there was coffee to be served, tables to be set up, and spoons and napkins to set out, the reporter side of Muriel came out, as she searched for anybody who might have information about what was going on. She loved to dig for information, and this was a night to dig.

This was Gwen’s favorite place to be during wintertime, Brew or Bust, the cozy, quaint coffee shop just down the street from her apartment. Lazy snowflakes drifted past the window as she sipped her warm chai tea, the beverage’s sweet richness filling her senses. It was Sunday, a lazy day off from her work as a children’s librarian, a job she’d held for more than a year and loved.

Once the coffee was brought over and the waitress a certain distance away, the conversation resumed. 2567 brought out a clear packet with fine white crystals, shook some of it into his cup, and stirred it in his coffee.

She strolled past the weathered doors of her apartment complex, tugging at a torn scarf for warmth, and the fall winds bit at her frigid fingers as she gripped the bag that held her belongings. An urge to turn back and return to the comfort of her bed tugged at her resolve, but she could only wish upon a star to be able to live that dream.

I sat in my chair with a mug of tea nestled in my hands. The missionary ladies had all left for their homes, which left me with silence around the house. The sweet aroma of tea relaxed my taut body. It had been a long day - too long.

The coffee machine began to beep, so she shut it off and grabbed a mug with the initials LM engraved onto it from her sink. She carefully poured herself a cup, watching the earthy liquid fill the mug up to the brim. She then sat down in a chair and listened to the news reporter's somber voice.

on her plate, and as the steam rose from the boiled meat, waves of nausea rose from