Julia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
common_name) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisa2012-01-14 05:11 pm
common_name) wrote in paradisa2012-01-14 05:11 pm
Entry tags:
008 || Backdated to Friday the 13th because fashionably late is where it's at
[When the outside world is gone, what are you left with? When its distractions are nothing but a distant memory, when your senses work a desperate overtime in a futile attempt to fill in the void, what stays? In an unpredictable reality, one that can change or be snuffed out at the drop of a hat, what can be considered a constant?
There's only one thing, what may be the most horrifying above all else to be left alone with, to have no choice but to face. Yourself.
With the lights out, with whispers constantly present in the back of her mind, with suspicions that may or may not be ungrounded gently tugging at her, just the right amount, it's hard for Julia to tell what's real. Maybe she's never really able to tell for certain, but on this day, it's enough to be more than unsettling.
No matter what she does, no matter where she goes, there's always a feeling that there's something just two steps behind her, watching, waiting to make the right move. Images, ones that were just flickers at first, disappearing when she blinked, but had over time become clearer, more lifelike. Her eyes are lying to her. Everything is lying to her. It has to...--
Nevertheless, she's now found herself in the second floor corridor, gun in hand, having set out to search for something. Something that's not really there, but that she can't stop herself from searching for all the same. At the moment the journal chooses to pick up some of this scene, she's taken a pause, her breath coming out in short gasps. Her steady grip on that gun begins to shake.]
It's over. [Her voice is about as steady as her grip; wavering in its best attempts to be firm. For anyone that would happen to also be in the area, it's not clear who or what she's actually talking to. Maybe she's trying to convince herself, make one last attempt to rationalize her way through whatever is going through her mind.] It's over.
[[OOC: Completely wide open :) Journal, hallway, whatever you want!]]
There's only one thing, what may be the most horrifying above all else to be left alone with, to have no choice but to face. Yourself.
With the lights out, with whispers constantly present in the back of her mind, with suspicions that may or may not be ungrounded gently tugging at her, just the right amount, it's hard for Julia to tell what's real. Maybe she's never really able to tell for certain, but on this day, it's enough to be more than unsettling.
No matter what she does, no matter where she goes, there's always a feeling that there's something just two steps behind her, watching, waiting to make the right move. Images, ones that were just flickers at first, disappearing when she blinked, but had over time become clearer, more lifelike. Her eyes are lying to her. Everything is lying to her. It has to...--
Nevertheless, she's now found herself in the second floor corridor, gun in hand, having set out to search for something. Something that's not really there, but that she can't stop herself from searching for all the same. At the moment the journal chooses to pick up some of this scene, she's taken a pause, her breath coming out in short gasps. Her steady grip on that gun begins to shake.]
It's over. [Her voice is about as steady as her grip; wavering in its best attempts to be firm. For anyone that would happen to also be in the area, it's not clear who or what she's actually talking to. Maybe she's trying to convince herself, make one last attempt to rationalize her way through whatever is going through her mind.] It's over.
[[OOC: Completely wide open :) Journal, hallway, whatever you want!]]