Oh, Great Founder, not this one
Arms, legs, the usual.
I also seem to be running the site.
I may get around to writing some actual stories at some point.
Pink hair again. It hadn't been pink since ... that time when ... and it all went normal again. I was normal. But not now. The dream tore through my mind, Aether burned into my skin, the skin changing, turning, petrifying. Pink hair falling. Eyes following it down, past the scar, past the hole, past where my soul had been poured out for my friend, the friend who hadn't said two words to me since. Who went her own way; dropped me like a worn-out rag doll.
Deep within my burning body, though, I could hear a voice, not quite human, calling to me, promising a return of things lost. The price? There is always a price.
The girl who lost everything in an ungrateful society, in a world of bereavement, in a cell of isolation.
With nothing left to lose, I was starting to think that this chance may be worth the price.
Maybe next time the dream comes.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
I would barter my soul for the right second chance, which sounds like a possibility here. I'm not sure I've ever been normal but I definitely long for times past and I think you've captured that. There's something about dreams being a window (or perhaps a door) that I don't quite understand but I think it's all right. It stands on its own since the dreams aren't the focus.
- #4026 Posted 4 years ago
Author's prompt text:
- Published 4 years ago.
- Story viewed 9 times and rated 0 times.
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Inspired by http://www.sleeplessdomain.com/comic/chapter-12-page-01 (and I think I need to check the code for prompt text...)