Spookymaybe Stories

Hello dear reader! I re-visited my book titled Blank Slate and just reading the description made me cringe. I get that no artist, of any medium, fully likes the work they made forever but I feel like I should try to "update it" and make it a better book in general. I hope y'all understand and when I have the time to recreate this story I hope it will be better and show improvement. Becasue that is what art truly is about. Improvement. Happy reading! -Worth It- The dreadful and heavy feeling of sharp edged stones piling in my lungs made my heart pound. My heartbeat made me worry that my ears would burst and drip sticky blood onto the concrete floor. Tufts of air clouded near my mouth from panting as shiny black feet made its way into my blurry vision. Wait no. Not feet but simple styled flats. Distant car horns make it to my ears as the dark blur edges closer to my quivering form, half sprawled on the ground. A few shouts are heard as the blur, now looking more feminine the closer it gets, reaches its hand toward my neck. I feel gentle hands move the fabric away from my neck, exposing it to cool yet muggy air. Then, as the hand presses down on a certain spot of my skin, My word calmly goes black.