For once, it could be said that he wasn't living anymore.
But I say, he's still living.
For once, it could be said that he wasn't breathing anymore.
But now I can even say, he is.
For if he didn't, he wouldn't have come to me.
Wouldn't have come to tell me, to tell me something.
Wouldn't have come, to tell me, that i can't escape from my flaws.
Wouldn't have come to remind me of all my mistakes, especially one.
The one, because of which, he went away, but still came to meet me, and greet me, my farewell, from the place I was currently in, and welcome now, to the new place, where I had sent him.
He kept his promise, to take me.wherever he goes, but maybe it was me, who couldn't keep my promise, to keep him safe, from all dangers, even from my own devil- self.
For me, he still lives.
For me, he still breathes.
With me.
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That was long, wasn't it?
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Whispers
Short Story[#1 in readbetweenthelines] [Featured in GothicLit Reading List] Some things we don't say. But those thoughts never vanish. They just go a bit deeper and shake up the inner conscience. Hi there, these are some self-composed short stories that might...
