Love
The woman, the rock and the tree
A dirty face, pale skin darkened by grime, the marks of dried tears decorating her cheeks as echoes of lost feelings. A shadow haunted her eyes, all light was gone from them, maybe hidden, maybe lost forever. A steady pace in rhythm but quivering under her own weight. Every step taking her closer to somewhere; that she hoped. Being somewhere is all you can do if you’re nowhere.
By Victor Chavarria3 years ago in Fiction
I Do
Mr and Mrs Femur had been together through life and refused to part in death. They lived in a little tomb within the Molar cemetery in western Bonearia with only a few gravebours nearby and they couldn't be happier. Mr Femur had been a bank clerk in life and he kept his bowler hat and briefcase from back then. Mrs Femur had sold jewelry and it clanked against her rib cage to this day.
By Robyn Little3 years ago in Fiction




