Someone was waiting for her at Pyle’s Yard.She’d always heard that strange things happened there, but being a person who was not scared by much, that didn’t shake her curiosity. She plopped her stuff down on the table and sat down. She sat staring at her french notebook, where she had written the numbers 1 to 60. Un.Deux.Trois.Quatre, her eyes drooped and her head nodded forward…
Diaspora started awake and stared at the clock.IL est sept heures trente. She shook her head clearing her mind of the annoying habit she had of thinking of the time in french. Nevertheless she had to hurry,she had a date in Pyle’s Yard.
She arrived at the gate and opened it quickly, taking long strides down the yard.Diaspora stopped abruptly. Something was very wrong here.She turned back to the gate but found nothing but a stark white wall.She jumped.
No…
She looked around her, everything was turning white. She screamed.It’s not real! White shapes followed her everywhere she ran,mocking her Leukophobia.Her fear of white.