The girl rarely had nightmares. Although she mused to herself that quite ironically her life was already a constant reoccurring nightmare so at least her sleep provided a few neccessary, albeit brief, moments of relief. The faint glow from her stickers on the ceiling cast deep shadows across her room, almost hiding the piles of scattered unpaid bills and unwashed clothes. A faint smile breaks out as she lets the now empty pill bottle roll to the floor, the dancing shadows a silent witness as she drifts off into her permanent sleep.
YOU ARE READING
100 word stories
General FictionNew series designed to keep me writing. stories created with 100 words or less. Hope you enjoy. Recommended age: 16+. Can deal with dark topics.
