Stabitliketomriddlesdiary Stories

Everyone believes they are living, until they start dying. At what point do you change? Alita was my rock in a raging river. If I held on tightly enough, I would never drown. Then my fingers started slipping and my rock started to break. My sister left. And I started dying. DISCLAIMER: THIS STORY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH PLOP TARTS OR POP TARTS AT ALL AS OF YET, NOR WILL IT EVER, MOST LIKELY. AND NO ONE HAS DIED YET SO THAT'S MISLEADING AS WELL. I ASSURE YOU, THE TITLE WILL MAKE SENSE EVENTUALLY. Please Critique!!! -QuadriNarShark

"Elsa?... Do you wanna build a snowman?" Have you ever felt those three verses in "Do You Want To Build a Snowman" don't even scratch the surface of their time apart? This story is my feeble attempt to delve deeper into their relationship during that time. (I tried to make this as accurate as possible, but in some cases, wether intentionally or unintentionally, I made some inconsistencies between the movie and this story. I'm sorry.) It's a little short, but these kinds of stories can never truly end. WARNING: THIS COULD BE POTENTIALLY DANGEROUS TO THOSE WHO LACK FEELS OF STEEL. Jk. It's not ^that^ good...