a-level creative writing inspired by the virgin suicides
12th August 1975
The youngest of us rides through our quiet neighbourhood. Naively letting her sweet, little defiant bones drown in the summer sunlight and the white lace of her dress run over the back wheel. In frilled ankle socks that have been wandered in for hours and one hand on her hat she pedalled past the Anderson boys, bringing to their attention the flushed colour of her underwear, that matched her cheeks.
lots of love, sugar mice and candy floss, lily
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