Drip… The monotonous sound of a leaky faucet. Drip… Of rain in a downspout. Drip… Of blood falling from the opening of a fresh wound. Drip… “Counting down the blood in my hourglass. Drip by,” Drip… “How else would I keep time?” Drip… “Born backwards,” Drip… “Living to die.” Drip… “How else would you measure a year in my life?”
It's funny how life and timing play out when it comes to your dreams. Take me for instance, I wanted to be a ballerina and tell stories through the fluidity of my movements, without the need of words, to convey meaning with my body, however, we didn't have the money growing up, so I choreographed... Continue Reading →
Inside the Gotham City Bank: The Bank is dark, empty and eerie but a single voice echoes giddy and disembodied throughout the marble halls: “Question: what’s Bat and right and red all over? The answer may just surprise you!” Seemingly from nowhere Batman lands in the center of the grand structure, silhouetted by the skylight... Continue Reading →
*Ring* - a shrill alarm rings throughout the empty Batcave. *Ring* - Gotham City Bank: A tellers hand hits the silent alarm. *Ring* - The doorbell at Wayne Manner; The visitor Mirrianna Savauge. Outside Gotham City Bank: The area is tapped off with police cars barricading the perimeter. Gordon’s car pulls up and... Continue Reading →
The night is dark and thick with rain that pours down as unrelenting as the iron framework that keeps this facility cut off from the civilized world. Arkham Asylum. This particular extension is even more secluded, furrowed away from the main building and holding cell for the criminally insane or at least those lawyered up... Continue Reading →
Glory Fiction 