I recently read Harrow the Ninth (second book of The Locked Tomb tetralogy), written in second POV, I am still utterly amazed by it. So anyway, I decided to give it a try. As per usual, TW, some angst to lighten your day, enjoy:
You lift your sword above your head, tears flowing shamelessly down your beautiful face, and strike, not at them, but at yourself. The cold metal digs into skin and burrows deep inside your body. You clench your teeth in pain and look away from the open, bloody wound. And yet, it doesn't go away. The voices, the hurt... Nothing goes away as Life tries to escape through your gushing pit; as your Soul is being pulled out of your wrecked, broken body.
And instead of just letting go, you fight for each pitiful breath as the shadow of Death slowly creeps up on you, as your tears dry on your cheeks and your life crumbles beneath my presence.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠
