My skin was crawling, blooming with heat. The fire burned so bright, so hot, that even the steam was enough. The air blistered, my hair singed.
I call out, it wasn't me! but the flames have engulfed my voice, they've engulfed me. My back arches in pain as the wood splinters into my back. My wrists red, raw from friction, my heart dulled. There was no use fighting, I had lost my fight, it was too late now. I had burned.
It wasn't even me.
YOU ARE READING
Imagine✨🖤🌙
Historia CortaSometimes we just need to imagine... This book is something I wrote so I can write away my feelings, take ideas and put them to paper, or just use it as a warm up for my novels. Either way, I hope you can enjoy it as I do.
