I don't know what happens to me or where I am. Time and space spin by in a blur and I am lost in it all. My life flashes before my eyes. I do not die. I am not alive. I write, and I live inside the stories. I do not know what's keeping me sane. In the midst of my grief induced haze, I see faces and objects I barely remember, and speak words I do not know. Only one memory remains clear-
My name is Brook.
Following
Sign up to join the largest storytelling community
or
Brook_element01
Sep 26, 2017 07:41PM
Oh my gosh!!! I’ve been gone for quite a while, and have just picked pack up with the writing. I decided to come back and just check up oh how things are looking, and have been pleasantly surprised w...View all Conversations
Story by Brook_element01
If We Go On
A short story I had to write for English class about the end of the world. It is set in a man's point of view...
