Collection of variable short stories, about anything, anyone, any genre.
Project Type: Not Yet Specified.
This project's owner would only like your comments.
What colour is left drains away. He feels cold, he feels tired, he doesn't feel himself. He feels... hungry.
What colour is left drains away. He feels cold, he feels trapped in a another world, he feels tired, he doesn't feel himself. He feels... hungry.
Peter gets into his sandbox, and puts his treasure in and ready dug hole, and begins to cover it in sand.
He reaches some local shops a few streets away before he starts hyperventilating. He collapses into some bins knocking them over, he hits the ground with a tremendous thud, he kicks his feet, pushing himself back in between the fallen bins, he hold his head up on one. His body shakes uncontrollably, he becomes cold and delirious, he buries his head in his hands trying to re awaken himself to reality but nothing helps. He looks back at his arm, the bleeding has stopped somewhat, however his forearms has become seriously pale, almost grey, with blackness spreading from the wound outwards, he shudders and looks away, spitting up black as he turns. What colour is left in him drains away. Tears fill his eyes, he closes them.