"I write for myself, the others may enjoy but as a writer I do it for myself and I shall stand for it"~Sierra
Pitch black, that's what I see. My arms are paralyzed, my whole body is. I try to slowly open my eyes but I can't endure the pain. Can't control the fire that leads to pain. I guess this is just hells desire, the little piece of the devil in me wants to go back home. It yearns for it.
Blackout
I can hear noises, and I can see light through my eyelids. Voices and beeps.
Blackout
I can open my eyes now. I can wiggle my right arm and I can finally speak. I'm at the hospital. Someone really cared then. It felt as if no one cared at the orphanage, then again they could just be doing this for them. When an orphanage loses a child, the town's government gives them money. Horrid huh? I'm being used. Liked halfway chews gum, when you realized you wanted mint flavor and got strawberry. I'm the piece of gum. The orphanage is the person. I'm the person, the orphanage is my gun.
(Yay i updated again)
YOU ARE READING
Fallen Angel
Short StoryClose your eyes and imagine a world. Everything is pitch black and happiness is scarce. The soul that lives there is dark and hasn't got hope to carry on. It's an unfair battle between one person and the world and it seems like the world is winning...
