KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK . . . thunderous pounding, an unforecasted phenomenon swelling within the climate of the hallway, plucks the shadow’s well - loved carcass from the grips of an inebriated slumber. Muscles resemble that of atrophied limbs lying inert for months on end, a freight truck of overexertion running them over by the big mac’s unforgiving wheels； against the efforts of sleep lulling the shadow back into the warmth of it’s nebulous graces, limited energy is wrestled from their depths to inspire some life into their roadkill corpse. Limbs shift within their respective fleshy sleeves, enlivening each lengthy appendage from beneath the twisted and knotted sheets wrapped around them — with the exception of one： an extra arm seemingly sprouted overnight. Hollows for a stare, barely awake enough to greet the few light streams having burned cigarette holes into nicotine aged curtains welcoming them to experience the morning, glance behind them at the inert arm suppined across the expanse of their back. From there, trailing the tanned and well defined limb ( that definitely didn’t belong to them ) across their shoulders, eyelets settle on the spot beside them — typically found unoccupied — now filled with a warm, sleeping body of a faceless other. Last night’s debaucherous exploits, mostly a blur with any .attempt at current recollect, have made himself a comfortable bedfellow； it wasn’t the first time and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last, except for the —
Knocking. This time the sound rises louder and more precisely against the wood grain of the front door, echoing into the poor excuse for a furnished apartment turned makeshift office, stirs them from their temporary dwellings within a groggy haze. Memories, particularly those necessary moments steeped in intoxication and are left smudges of what they once were, betray their present understanding as viable reasoning is sought for the presence of such an early wake up call. Whoever’s — or in most likely cases whatever’s — silhouette is cast against frosted glass, their stance at the door remains unrelenting. Sleep evades them for now, succumbing to the pouding echoing throughout the hollow of their skull； with limited options, the shadow proceeds to entertain whoever’s at the door before they wake Whatshisname beside them.
With absolute certainty the sound wasn’t the makings of a blistering hangover still haunting the limits they push their beloved human form, slow moving limbs spring to life untangling their trapped extremities and essaying not to stir the still, faceless body lying blissfully unaware as the arm is slowly peeled from its place trailing the scar of their equally bespeckled back. Once free, haste is made of movements, making quick work searching through the strewn apparel left in heaps from last night’s trysts, quickly discerning between their own abandoned pieces of clothes and the others； elongated legs are stuffed into the legs of boxers while hands temporary blindfold themself pulling on a shirt that barely qualified as clean, crown of disheveled raven curls surfacing to throw a quick glance over a newly clothed shoulder, the soft snore from their sleeping bedfellow overwhelms the silence of the still apartment. Creeping across the minefield of objects strewn across the wood floors in desperate need of a sweep and scrub down, refraining the familiar loose boards prone to playing a chord out of key, they come to stand at the threshold. With all the theatrics for a show of a sleeping audience member, previous efforts to sustain limited patience were ultimately for naught； the final rattling of rhythmic raps against the door forcing movements into a swift fluid motion, wood separated from the flush of its frame with a creak and a hissing ： 〝 What?！ 〟
Leave it to the awkward nature of invasive silence to creeping into the harsh halogen glow of the emptied hall, muffles of mysteriously heard ( but always never seen ) neighbors clattering and shifting in their own unique life patterns overhead the only other occupant of the tension held in the lingering moment of erupted impatience. Realization is due for impact once the squint of aching eyelets finally adjusts enough to recognize some semblance of familiarity in the features of the undeserving recipient of the shadow’s boiled over fury. 〝 I’M SORRY, DID I MISS SOMETHING？ 〞 @medicnal ( cordelia )’s words arrive with much delay, defying realities pressures to align with its synced cadence； palatable silence remains, lingering on their tongue as it searches the crevices of clenched teeth for an answer.
composure recoils from the sharp edge of ejected vulgarity enough for temperament to register through the shifting tension rippling throughout, uncouth manners rendered dull and restrained against the burden of innate discomposure shrinking against the grain of the doorway. Aphotic pools, still upon a cursory observation, search the (un)expected visitor’s features for a modicum of information to alight synapses still dazed and half - asleep. And it hits them in an instant, a flashbang revelation： 〝 You called yesterday. 〟 words, hoarse from an early morning case of drought, escape an agape maw without consciousness, puppeteered from the one thought of many sober enough to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity. 〝 You called me yesterday about the . . . right！ 〟 vigor and synchronicity rejoice through repetition, reuniting through the utterance of the renewed exclamation with the brief widening of blackened sockets.
Not one of their smoothest recoveries, eerie echoes of embarrassment leave their stance to shrink in an instant. The relaxed avenues of etched worry lines press against the peeling and cracked surface of the door, skull weary with the burden of their own impetuous mistake. 〝 No, you didn’t miss anything. I did. 〟 With a lax stance now plumb, they continue： 〝 This is my fault. Bit of a late night and I’m not exactly prepared for company this early in the morning. Just give me a few minutes to deal with . . . [ peeking into the domicile of suffused sunlight braced against the shutters of closed shades at the handsome and ( yep, definitely ) naked devil that kept the shadow company last night, who remains asleep but slowly stirring in the poor excuse for a bed； attention resumes. ] and i’ll be with you, just wait out here. 〟 Door softly clicks shut, uttering just above their breath through the paper thin door ： 〝 Just a few minutes, I promise！ 〟
[ CASTLE ROCK SENTENCE PROMPTS ]： ACCEPTING！
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
2087
turnnoffyourmind
