“Good morning..” The weak mortal of the land says to his lungs, his blood, his cage. Even though he was told to ‘shut up’ he smiles at the trampled dirt below his dirty feet. The foolish mortal looks toward the sun peeking through the thickest trees. For most beings seeing the sun is the happiest thing to do but to him, it is a painful reminder that he can never feel the ambedo of the morning. As he picks up his axe and meanders towards the woods hating the screams of birds along the way he frowns.
YOU ARE READING
"Good morning.."/"Goodbye"
Short Story[...] "Good morning.." [...] ----------------------------------------------------- [...] With her touch he doesn't feel his cage [...] ----------------------------------------------------- Hello! This is my first post on Wattpad, this story is on AO...
