That feeling you get when you build with a popular block. That feeling you get when you play with a puppet sock. When you actually wrote your first song. When you tried to be anything but wrong. When you tried to compete with your first crush. When you wanted to grow up but still not feel in a rush. That feeling you get when you learn how to ride a bike. That feeling you get when you go on your first hike. When you wrote one of your first short stories and it was amazing. When you were to become an author and it was worth saving.
About the Creator
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor4 days ago in Fiction
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