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Dancemarcher
Guest
Here is an excerpt from my book. I'm 13. Be as harsh as you want to. Lille clutched at the wall with her sweaty, clammy hands, trying not to pass out. She didn't know where she was. "I must be hallucinating," she though. But she wasn't. This was real. Her mom was walking toward her, her arms open and tears streaming down her face. Except, except this wasn't the mom she remembered. Her mom had a warm demeanor like a crackling fire on a chilly day. This woman was cold and awful. She was whiter than a snowflake falling on the ground. Lille started shouting, except no words came out. She had gone deaf and mute at the same time. All she could hear was a familiar sound, so distant that it was barely recognizable. It would have been all for the better if this song was indistinguishable. For, at that moment, Lille knew what that tune was as her mom clutched her with her thin hands. "Why are you doing this to me?!" Lille shouted as she realized that her voice had come back to her.