𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚜𝚝;
𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗
𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚝
𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊;
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎; 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎
𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚡𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜;
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑:
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖, 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖...⚡
Following
Sign up to join the largest storytelling community
or