I felt like I was floating.
I raised my hand up in front of my face, noting the creases and scars that littered my fingers.
I could hear them. They were screaming, begging for me to get up, say something, anything at all.
But despite all of that, I kept myself silent. This feeling was muffled and fuzzy, as if I was covered in a large blanket.
I would have never thought that death could be warm.
My eyelids grew heavy. The feeling of warmth grew more until it was the only thing I could feel on my skin.
I closed my eyes.
I wanted this warmth to last forever.
YOU ARE READING
One Shots
AcakRandom bits of story lore from my books or pieces of writings from concepts I've written down but never expanded upon, it'll all be collected here. It's a strange collection of works, but this randomness makes this special. Cover was created using...
