Whoseywhatsit Thursday: Writing prompt

OMG After last week, and the sudden rash of edits I've brought on myself, I'm feeling pretty tapped out. Do you ever get like that? You know our brain is there, because your body is functioning, you're thinking about stuff, but no matter how much poking, prodding, or pleading it doesn't brings about anything useful.

This happened right in the middle of me deciding Screw it, I'm going to write what I want. I had one of those moments at the inception of BROKEN. I was having it again, and it was glorious! I had files open for research, for character names, quotes I liked... *sigh*

Then reality came crashing in. And then I got up this morning and realized today's my day on the Oasis. So... with my brain kinda scrambled, I'm taking the coward's way out and giving y'all a writing prompt, and my take on it.

 

If y'all want to play, please play nicely. Constructive comments to help each other out!

My take:

Dust whisks up with each hesitant step. Dry, raspy whispers drift through the room, loosed by paint peeling from the ceiling. Even with the pitted walls, broken furniture and window panes, it's beautiful. Memories hidden in my blood rise, images of this place in its height of glamor. My heart clenches, fingers drift down to feel the silk of the gown I am not wearing in this life. The moments are so similar--except for decades in between. Then, and now, I wait for Aidan to appear.

He did. I know he will. Hunters never fail. 

God. I never thought, at the beginning of the school year, that I would end up here, so many memories unlocked, with Aidan chasing me, trying to save me from the inevitable.

I thread on creaking floors past the toppled piano, to the hole in the plaster, led by the knowing that sings in my soul. Anticipation rushes through me, a heady mix with the adrenaline of the chase, of knowing Aidan is bound by oath and by blood to stop me, or end my life. The small hole in my jeans rips when I bend down, and red falls to muddy the dust. The box is here, as I knew it would be, the rosewood gleaming through a fine silty layer.

I ache to have that life back, to be what I once was. It only takes opening that box, and using the vial inside.

A crash echoes through the theater, and Aidan's presence races my nerves.

It's now or never. So why am I hesitating?