Author has written 1 story for Mystery.
Our hands are burning. Are they, perhaps, bleeding? Is my body crying? Oh, wait, my eyes are dried.
She looked at me in the eye, absent-mindedly, with her green iris drifting in the warm breeze.
"Let's pack all this bullshit away", she replicated.
I wrote in a small sheet of paper the following words: My wrists hurt. And, she did the same, but instead she wrote: I can't eat.
We put the crumbled paper inside the box and then buried underground. The sound of the wind through the leaves filled the silence as we looked at each other doubtfully. We were friends for the same reason: We hate our bodies.
Zombies. Band. Friends. Fun. Madness. Rage. Love.
Alias Blue (5)