Never step on someone's grave, child. Never dance through a yard of them. Never disrespect the fallen, as the results will haunt you all of your natural life and possibly more. Told in the eyes of a girl named Agnes, who did just that. This is just something short, please don't ask for updates. Although, feel free to give me more ideas fr short stories, and if you enjoy this one leave a comment or vote.

In a post- apocalyptic steampunk age, human have evolved into something much more helpful. To some. There are those who would consider our new adaptions to be a bit inconvenient, depending on their own preferences. The new age of humans has been born with nothing ever existing before. We all have something strange on our chest, of all different sizes and patterns. Cloth hearts. They are somehow sewn into our skin by nature, sort of in the way that an orange is pre- sliced. They are unrecoverable, and blend together with our skin. They're basically connected to our, should I say "real" hearts. These hearts aren't all useless though, they direct us to the love of our lives.