Death itself is funny thing. The people you need the most always die first, and those you wish could die today always make it to tomorrow.
The skin around my eyes and nose were becoming red, stinging as cold began to work its way into my body.
I hated graveyards. I didn't know anyone that enjoyed coming to them. But I had to come back. I had to, or I would break my promise.
She said she would never leave.
How ironic.
The sky was smeared a million different colors. The cardinal reds, plum purples, and roseate pinks, blended and twisted into a collage never to be repeated. The sun hung low in the sky, ready to shine anew on the other half of the world. Ready to leave me alone for yet another night.
I would return. I always do.
YOU ARE READING
skin
Teen Fiction【We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.】 -Andre Berthiaume ♦♢♦♢♦♢♦ these are the stories of those who will never be happy with who they are.
