The hallway was a long corridor of empty walls and plain wooden doors, pristine and quiet. Thomas rubbed the back of his neck and slowed his pace in a futile effort to muffle his footsteps. Thick dust covered his shoes and two books were heavy weights in his pocket, pulling his jacket askew and lending further to a general look of disrepute. He should probably care about the state of his person; Thomas could almost hear his mother sighing at him and asking where she went wrong. But the chill had seeped into his bones and at this point in time, he could care less about what he looked like. He had spent yet another morning buried in boxes and stacks of hastily bundled paper hidden in the furthest depths of the basement, but he had the feeling that today his discoveries had made it all worth it.

by Yoiyami (宵闇) (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/52009.html) The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was that there was an angel looking at his painting. Specifically, at the part of his painting that was still incomplete. No one was supposed to see anything that he worked on until it was completed. That was the one […]