The tree was old.
It had all our memories. All our memories had it.
We cried with it. We laughed with it.
We climbed on it. We dug its roots.
It was strong with lots of leaves.
Best part, it had very strong branches.
It was the place where I started.
I wanted it to be the place I end.
The tree was tall.
So was the rope.
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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...
