|Posted on September 2 at 11:41 am with 13 notes||Reblog|
Evie couldn’t sleep much that night, she was giddy with excitement from the proposal. She laid in their bed, replaying the nights evens in her head. Smiling like a goof as she daydreamed, she didn’t realize she was strangling Warren who wriggled his way from her grasp.
She giggled, “Sorry,…
D’aw, she still remembers him! And I have no idea what’s going to happen either… XD It’s lovely to see Evie so happy!
|Posted on September 2 at 10:02 am with 3,675 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on September 2 at 10:02 am with 985 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on September 2 at 2:05 am with 5 notes||Reblog|
Thank you very much. <3 I hope to see you in-game!
|Posted on September 2 at 1:35 am with 22 notes||Reblog|
The door seemed so much louder than it should have, when it closed. I didn’t slam it, but it felt as though I did. Everything is louder than I remember. If I didn’t know better- and do I, really?- I’d say the house is angry with us. There’s an accusation in its subtle sighs now, a guilty undertone of abandonment.
The presence of the dust doesn’t help.
I don’t really know what to say.
Was I wrong to leave?
There are a dozen case files under my desk but they can’t mean anything anymore. Their secrets are expired now. Life, in all of its unpredictable harshness, will have changed them. What I have in these files now are just snapshots, shadows of who my patients were for a moment in time. I do not know who they are anymore.
And I am not allowed to know.
It can’t mean anything anymore, because it mustn’t. Because it meant too much before. I reached too far, too fast, too desperately, and in my fervor to find the answers for others, I lost them for myself. In trying to touch them, I lost touch.
I don’t really know who among them was the first to see it.
The way they spoke, it had been coming for a long time.
The house is haunted still, by whomever occupied it when first it was purchased for us, but also now by the remnants of my own impending crack. To come back to it feels like stepping back in time, and with the smell of these rooms and the creak of these floors comes a legion of associated anxieties.
Adaziel says the house needs to breathe, and once it breathes, it will be easier for me to breathe as well.
We’ll see about that.
|Posted on September 2 at 12:42 am with 15 notes||Reblog|
Dylan Fosket by Evie McShane for Sessions magazine
|Posted on September 2 at 12:31 am with 10,664 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on September 1 at 2:41 pm with 7,031 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on September 1 at 2:40 pm with 1,302 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on September 1 at 12:11 pm with 9 notes||Reblog|
I’m back on the game too.