He managed to get over the stout fence with ease. The derelict hut lay waiting as a fine, light snow began to fall.
If he could just get away from the voices.
Here. It must be far enough.
Obese. Grotesque. Vile. Slob.
Here he could be himself, without their judgement.
Abbie Mapley wrote this story.
Her house was her world. Its walls and windows, standing like shields, kept the intruders away.
She was spending days in solitude, traveling beyond horizons on flying leaves.
At night, heavy curtains would close to separate her from the outside, ending the performance of a life that could have been.
Liana is Romanian, but lives in Belgium. She is currently studying art.