Dark red flowed out, slithering across the sand. Footprints and loud yells ran over towards it, carrying spears and an inhumane hatred. With the time the boys got to the beast, he was already on the ground, letting out short and brittle gasping sounds. Fresh blood poured out from his nose, dripping down onto his lip before eventually falling. He wasn't what they thought he was. Or, perhaps they knew the truth the whole time.
Dark red flowed out, slithering across the sand, and just like that, he was dead.
I had a dream about this the night after I finished Lotf. (And it def shows)
YOU ARE READING
Tales From An Outsider
PoetryA small and growing collection of poetry many of which are based on various dreams (and daydreams) I've had. The rest are based on hyper fixations (currently Lotf) This will probably have multiple different genres. Horror, romance, personal thoughts...
