The dark, stormy, nightly streets...poorly lit by worn off street lamps and by the occasional strike of the lightning. Tristis looks at the clock tower, 11 50...late...she should still hurry and get home, s'much as she fills with paranoia; thoughts of being followed flow through, she continues walking and re'ssuring - things that the eyes will not catch, aren't to be...th'n when suddenly she hears a clang, in an instant turn to face the reason for so, only to
look 'pon a dark, manly and mysteriously horrifying figure, "Com'ere kitty...what's the ma'er, you don'wanna play?", the rough voice that chiselled to the ears, quickly picking all the courage she owns, she barely breathed any words out of her as a clenched limb gr'sps at her neck - panic - for the second follows to her cloathe. 'T rips. N'ne hear when th' plead be's the loudest.
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Tristitia Autem est de Castitate
General FictionCan someone's life get any more unfortunate? Latin influences on some phrases used. No mistakes in the published text are made, the irregularity of it is intentional. If you are sensitive to topics such as rape, do not read this. If some parts are m...
