Ana Epstein
Joined June 2017
0 stories
Bio
I write because talking is hard
Stories (2/0)
Gravel
My arms burned, pierced by hundreds to tiny knives. I opened my eyes a crack and noticed sharp chunks of gravel embedded in jagged scratches. Apparently, flinging my arms forward as I landed on my stomach wasn’t the brightest decision. I blinked rapidly to dislodge the dirt from my lashes and lifted my head slightly. Hephaestus stood about ten feet away, his ears twitching curiously. He whickered when he noticed my gaze, and shifted slightly on his hooves as though asking, "What are you doing on the ground?"
By Ana Epstein7 years ago in Families