1 short story 1

A fragile figure near the ridge .

I can still hear how the wicked sound roared

"I'm selfish "

"people use people "

The dark deep endless mountain echoed it,

Puzzling the origin of the source itself.

The disturbance waves caused , cut through the stormy air ,followed menacing ravens flying.

The flock was thick and wild.

The petrified figure was numb as stone.

IT WAS TOO REAL FOR A DREAM.