Tenth City

Tenth City

  • WpView
    Reads 21
  • WpVote
    Votes 0
  • WpPart
    Parts 1
WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Feb 13, 2016
Our story begins in a city. Now this city probably isn't very far from where you live at all, but this city is different. This city is different. Well, different isn't exactly the best way to describe it, it's more uniquely it. That's it, it's uniquely what it is. I doubt people or creatures like you have ever seen one of these ten cities at your point in time, as your delusional minds tend to think everything has an explanation behind their overall makeup. But what your delusional minds don't think is what if. What if there isn't a reason? What if the past and peoples stories aren't as important as you're ignorant little societies make them seem? What if. And this, my oblivious creature, is what I'm here to lecture you about. This is what our story is about. The what ifs and the budding of a new mind. So without further a-do, we will begin in our city. The fourth city. It is a fluorescent day, the air crisp and polluted with the decadent smell of fresh apples lingering in the air...
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Singed - My demon
  • Cherry Blossom Abyss
  • Under The Bed
  • Vellichor
  • The Noise In The Silence
  • Daffodils and Hyacinths (Book 3 of the Forgotten Truths Series)
  • Blood and Apples: An Annora Park Novel: Book One
  • The wings attached. (Book one)
  • Catalyst [Unedited, rough]
  • Inside Our Head | NEW STORY

A happy childhood, a so-so adolescence. Then adulthood arrived, and everything went to hell. And by everything, I mean it. Grown-up life is truly a wonderful, dazzling adventure! A job that drains your soul, stripping away any will to live while fueling a more or less justified homicidal instinct; depression knocking at the door with a lovely bouquet of red roses and, last but not least, the remnants of a social life buried somewhere under my shoes. Not the ones I'm wearing now; those are slippers, big difference. I mean the pretty ones in the cabinet that I haven't touched in five years. Love can be destructive. It catches you, ensnares you, devours you, and if you're unlucky enough, it leaves you standing in nothing but your underwear before reducing you to ashes. I had made peace with my "and she lived single, forever unhappy but safe" fate. A house, one, four, eight, maybe twenty cats and a future as flat as a heart monitor that's given up the ghost. No joys, minimal suffering, because there's only so much a heart can take before it calls it quits. And honestly? Fuck it, I'd been through enough. ... But he changed everything. In the worst, most terrifying way possible. From this abyss, I may never climb back out.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines