room

A lone light bulb swings on its electric noose. Dust fights dust in complicated, swirling battles. The floor, already fragmented, dissects itself further with large lightning-bolt cracks. The pipes sing three Gs above middle C, trying to shatter the windows, which burst inward, embedding their shards in a rotting sofa. The door slams and falls to pieces. The walls are senseless with rage.

© 1997-2001 Narciso Jaramillo mechanisms | dyslexikon | nj's face