She’d wear next-to-nothing clothes and stand there every night for the trick the audience awaits.
He’d wear a tuxedo and a black hat and say a few warm-up thrill phrases to the audience.
She’d stand hand-folded against a wooden wall for him to throw the knives around her still body.
He’d throw confidently.
She’d not bleed if he misses, not in front of the audience, not in front of him.
He’d miss.
She’d wonder if sometimes he misses… on purpose.
2 comments:
that is simply brilliant.
you don't mind me asking, you created this?
haven't read anything so touching, very simple and very elaborate simultaneously
cheers
starfish
All writings in this blog are of my creation, unless stated otherwise. I am glad you like it. :)
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