It has come to my attention how strange returning from a school break is.
I have indeed returned to a familiar place, the same overbearing walls and rooms. And yet it feels unfamiliar. It is foreign-like and I might even say I am unwelcome here.
Perhaps it is my lack of excitement to return or the fact I have returned to hell incarnate.
Yet there is nothing truer than my quiet joy of finally having something to do after weeks of fumbling around in the expanse of my small home.
To a fruitful new year!
YOU ARE READING
The World's Whispers
General FictionIn the heat of Herwon Valley lies a broadcast station. A radio host, Samuel, resides inside. He hears nothing. This is a collection of what isn't real.
