Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Passing Through (IF: Snow)

     Running. Not stopping, nor slowing. The harsh frozen rain falls on her face. Water flowing over her cheeks, forming intricate patterns of ice. The cold is bitting down, threatening to absorb her in its abyss. She feels nothing only ache and sadness, for one so young the pain is horrendous... he can never come back, he is...dead

No comments:

Post a Comment