Once upon a time, in a land of shimmering stars and moonlit forests, there were fairies who spun tales that dazzled like dewdrops on petals at dawn. With every word they spoke, a new world unfolded before your eyes, where dragons danced in the skies...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
˚◦○˚❀˚○◦˚❀˚◦○˚❀˚○◦˚❀˚◦○˚❀˚○◦˚❀˚◦○˚❀˚○◦˚❀˚◦○˚❀˚○◦˚
PROMPT:'One day your main character is walking and is handed a sketch by a stranger. The next day, a woman is found dead in a nearby river. She matches the sketch.'
The railway pass was just as occupied and there was no way I'd be able to get to the bathroom on time, I could almost feel my bladder pumping. The woman by my right kept on stepping on my leg with her six-inches heel and I swear each time, she felt my bone crack.
The other guy by my left was "whispering" sweet nonsense to his "sweetheart". I had tried to warn him but the nerve of him to call me jealous. The actual nerve!
Jealous of what exactly?.
At the next stop, I couldn't take the shit anymore. I pocketed my palms and made my way out of that train. I didn't even get to use the bathroom.
I sighed, walking the dull streets of the town. There were no lights on in the sweet shops. The cafés were pretty bland and the road only had a few cars running momentarily along the road. Yup, my lovely hometown.
My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. It was an unknown number, but it looked quite familiar. I was confused.
When I picked it up, a buzz had come through, and then I was cut off.
What the..
A notification suddenly popped in, a message.
It read; Go back to the train station.
"What?"
Was I being spied on?.
I glanced around me, but the town was the same as it had always been, eerie and quiet.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I turned back towards the train station.
As I came down the stairs, the heavy stench of sweat filled my nose and it was very nauseating.
I lowered my face to prevent the incoming smell as I made my way to the little high stand on the other end of the station.
Maybe it was the hood or just a play of my mind, but with my lowered sight, I saw another person, amidst the crowd moving in my direction.
Somehow, my sight was fixated on that one person.
The way the person walked, and more importantly the cloth it had put on.
The heavy cardigan was ripped and torn with patches and thatches all round it. The arm had sizzled holes and an unweaved wrist band. The cardigan—
I was hit hard in my rib by a grumpy hunk. No way was he getting away from that without apologizing.
