All I have are memories. Those memories give me a story to tell. They give nightmares, images, flashes of the trauma and of those I have lost. People that were there, friends that I made during that horrible time, were lost in the madness and are buried six feet with only a gravestone with their name engraved.
They can't tell their stories but I can tell mine and I'll tell you this, To them we weren't even human. They were the hunters, we were the prey.
YOU ARE READING
Writing ideas
AcakRandom writing ideas that pop into my head at random times. I hope you enjoy!
