Contrary to popular belief, death isn't cold. I think it's rather warm actually, like a blanket covering my entire body. Why yes, I'd say that's right, all over my body. If I lay here long enough, perhaps it'll keep getting warmer; the death seeping out of me in beautiful valleys, like a painted landscape that only it's own artist could appreciate.
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A Penny For Your Thoughts
Historia CortaNo one understands your head and thoughts better than you. Everyone has different experiences and emotions. My short stories are meant to reflect these emotions and experiences; the stories should be interpreted and mean something different to every...
