The flowers are filling my throat and spilling out of my mouth. The thorns are scraping my throat as they pour out. Where are they coming from? Who knows. I can feel the spiny vines wrapping around my head and neck as the plants consume me, like amber swallowing a bug. The blossoms smell sickly sweet as they slide around my arms and legs and their grip gets tighter. Poisonous plants flood my senses, their scent, their leaves, barbs, vines. A thicket has formed around me, the living daggers tear into my skin. Every rose has its thorns. Everyone has heard that, but I didn't listen. I never listen, but now it's too late. Sometimes, the rose is just as bad as the thorns. I try to reach my hand out, a call for help, but nobody is there. I am alone, and these beautiful twisted plants are consuming me. The flowers continue to pour out of my mouth, and now the petals slide from my wounds. Everything is in excruciating pain. The leaves, vines, and blossoms grow toward my face even as they rush out of my mouth, and soon they cover my entire face. My body is coated in twisting bleeding vines, and I am no longer myself. I have been swallowed by my own poor decisions.
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Random Stories
РазноеJust a bunch of random stories, these don't stick to a particular theme or genre. You should expect slow updates, but I'll try to update as much as I can. Enjoy!!
