The piercing throb against my ear. The warmth of blood flowing behind my head. The pressure of the concrete against my shoulders. The tacky stickiness of my hair and the weight of my eyelids. These were the feelings that overwhelmed me as I was dying, but more than everything else-
There was rain.
Cold dropped onto my hands, onto my neck, onto my cheek, onto my legs,
Falling,
Hitting,
Hammering.
The rain washed any sense from my skin, leaving only a sharp, tingling sensation behind.
Then it drowned me in numbness until all I could think was that I was as light as a feather, and all I could wonder was if I was floating upwards from the concrete.
Oh...
Man, I really am a clown.
The greatest
... clown of
... all
...
YOU ARE READING
The Tragic Villainess is a Clown
FantasyA self-proclaimed clown- a.k.a. stressed and upset mess- reincarnates in an illogical and convoluted fantasy world. Armed with idiocy and delusions, she will somehow forge a happy ending (?!)
