Breathe. Breathe. Why couldn't he just breathe?
So often, people called what he could do a gift. Now more than ever, he vehemently disagreed.
All around him, ghosts were clamoring for attention, some trying to tug at his sleeves in vain, others pulling on the tether that connected him to the world beyond the veil.
It had never been like this before. He had never been this overwhelmed.
"What is going on?", he managed to get out between pants.
The ghosts just screamed for a while, each of their voices drowning out the others. Then, they all yelled in unison. "They're destroying us. They're ripping this realm apart. They're tearing the veil down."
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
