- Reads 79
- Votes 8
- Parts 2
- Time 13m
Ongoing, First published Jul 30, 2020
Mature
He died. He was minding his own business. He was just playing a game with his friends. So why was he here. Why was he in a world so similar to the game he played. Yet so different. Why is his skin like snow, and soft like wet clay. Why is he forever small as he watches someone oh so familiar raise their sword up. And could only scream in fear as it swings down. He was a Lost Soul. He was reborn as a mad king's creation. A Porcelain Doll. A Lost Soul. No difference between those names. They ment the same thing in this World. He is supposed to be dead. He's supposed to be dead. He's dead. Why isn't he dead. He wasn't the first one here. But he was the last.(CC) Attribution-NoDerivs
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