It poured out of the gaping black abyss. It was like thick, crimson water, soaking the pale, lifeless body. Platinum blonde hair, stained by the wound.
The warm touch of ooze would have been felt if the victim had not been dead. Flies gathered as if they were an angered swarm of bees, ripping and shredding their small bits of flesh.
Not one person knowing, this was not an accidental death.
>TheArgentPanda<
First Written February 13, 2019
YOU ARE READING
The Fanciful Tales of a Hopeless Writer
Short StoryThis is a collection of my short stories. Please pardon any spelling or grammar mistakes. All of my stories are written by me and belong to me. These stories are important to me, so please no harsh criticism.
