The wretched wind blew and blustered. Shrieking and rending with invisible claws to tear away the lost souls and persistent memories. Oh, that I would gladly give those things up to the wily winter wind.
But they held tight.
Little clinging things with daggers for fingers stuck in the recesses of my very being; I’ve bled out conscious. Morals flung out with the Northerly and sprinkled into dust over the far fields, I supposed. Those prickly things that kept me company for most of my long years, replaced by sinister ghosts and base reason for too many more of those. Where can I find myself again? Whose tender compassion carries the miseries of others?
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For Thy Peace, My Soul
ParanormalThe tragic tale of an unwilling sin-eater. Each part is told succinctly in 100 to 120 words - a story of despair, corruption, horror, and ultimately... love. --- Please keep in mind the experimental part; if you attempt to connect the dots - to make...