I sat up and saw a little girl running my way, there was something off about her, she was grey. I don't mean her clothes. It wasn't just her clothes, anyways, everything from her little ringlets on her head down to her little Velcro sneakers matched the tones of the sky above. Her skin, hair, and eyes that should be full of vibrant color were the complete opposite. She came up slower as she got closer, almost in baby steps as she approached. When we were arms width apart, she outstretched her small grey hand towards my face. She couldn't have been more than eight years old, but the way her tiny hand cupped my cheeks made me look at her in a way you would look at someone much older and much wiser. As quickly as it began, it ended and she returned to her little girl persona. She giggled and ran away looking back at me.
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her slowtown
Подростковая литератураA young girl, based on the author, kills herself and wakes up in a land she's never expected. Everyone has completely lost all color resulting in sort of a limbo. And as a fan of twentyonepilots, she realizes this is her own version of the infamous...
