Marcella loved to lay with the shy and malformed shapes. If lonely, they were always there for you. In the corner of every room, beneath every bookcas... and immaculate piece of decorum. They knew her every secret.The slow creak of footsteps found her head spinning to the source. It crept by her door slowly, stopped, and returned. It became two coy knocks at her door.“Come In!” Marcella chimed, and pulled herself up to a sitting position. The blankets fell around her, their prison warped.Cynthia. She spins away from the cage as if slapped hard across the face. She stumbles and falls, and the cold crystallizes in her body. A dark, cloaked figure rises like a monolith from the darkness surrounding the cage, his footsteps marching to the same staccato beat of her own heart.Alien thoughts try to worm their way into her head, to convince her that her blood has frozen in her veins and her muscles have turned to ice -- anything to keep her there just a little longer. It gives her flagging. More

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