Evan James was not sleeping. He was not unconscious nor dreaming. He was awake; this was real.
He awoke by the sound of the trees singing, for he lay in a bed of crisp autumn leaves and was covered with a blanket of frost. Who knows how long he was there for until he realised what had happened the night before.
He was too weak to lift his frosted hand to wipe the dew from his soft face. A silent tear cascaded downwards onto the bridge of his nose. He kept telling himself that this couldn't be real and that it never happened, but all that came out was a dragon-like puff of air, along with dotted vowels and consonants. He fell silent, for he knew his attempts were pointless. It was clear to him that no one was coming back.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
A Boy Like Him
FantasíaA young male finds his path through the world, he finds and escape through books and tries to find his future husband.
