As the rain littered down through the dark clouds, it stood swaying, almost down, yet standing tall. Tattered and torn it fluttered delicately in the wind, the light blue fabric that resembled what has become of the village. The sleek, thin material once representing the harmony and grandeur of the tribe now a ripped terrorised flag. Violently cutting through the air the wind separated the flag from its past as it flittered along it danced away over the mountains. Rain continued to pour into The Valley creating pools of murky brown mud that splattered with every drop added.
The murk continued to grow and reflected the overhead ash that blocked out the shimmering sky.
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Short Stories
General FictionThese are just some stories I wrote after getting some burst of inspiration. They probably won't be any good and will most likely be unfinished. I hope you enjoy reading my random nonsense. (I have no specific genre.) Contents contain descriptions...
