Pitapat

At that moment, the foreboding microvibrations of unraveling plumerian petals pitapatted throughout our eardrums, like a flood of baby rats scurrying across hardwood floors at night.

It was Hirsutus Puella, and she was abloom with bursts of magentas, pinks, and reds. A noticeable arctic mist hydrated the chakras that grounded her passions.

Her gaze was unrelenting and transfixed on us, like a shadow sin that follows you throughout a lifetime.