A hand reaches upwards. An arm swaying in the wind as it flails for a leaf which gently rocks down from the wind.
The leaf is a replica of distant memories.
A window to your past.
It is your arm which sways as you hold it up in the wind. Its your finger tips which are going pale as the blood leaves your fingers.
Its you who has lost the memory most precious to you, and you who cant even remember what that memory is.
It is you who will fall, time and time again, but thats okay.
You wont give up, will you?
YOU ARE READING
The Guide
General FictionA series of very short stories. All in varying writing styles. I'd say my favourite is Ravenous.
