She wasn’t gonna die.
Then a wave of the hand that was supposed to be a warm, fuzzy feeling came out of her stomach, and she coughed.
The pain was too damn strong, but she was certain it was enough.
She didn’t take it. She screamed in her own blood, screaming that she couldn’t do anything, that her mother had forced her to, that she needed something from her. She couldn’t go through with her new life, she was in danger, she needed help.
The wind carried her towards the city.
It was freezing, but she managed to get inside and climb down to her room. She sat on the bed and opened her eyes, a cold pain in her throat.
She didn’t know where she was, but the pain was unbearable.
She knew the words to the ancient Greek song, “A man lays on the ground, the breadcrumbs lie bare.”
She opened her eyes.
There was no sound, just a steady thud.
Her mother was dead.
The wind was ripping the ground apart, but it wasn’t enough to make her fall. She could barely make out her fingers as she lay on the pillows.
Her mother died, and her mother was gone.
The air had a weird sort of smell to it, and she heard the familiar thud of the sheets, and she looked up at the sky.
There was wind, coming from all directions.
It was coming down on her, tearing her apart.
She couldn’t open her eyes. The air was cold, and her vision was blurry.
Her mother had died, her throat cracked, her eyes shut, her hands were frozen.
And her brain.
But she had survived.
She didn’t wanna die, but she knew she had to.
She grabbed the pillows from her bedroom and fell on them, sobbing.
“I didn’t know you had taken the pillows off me,” she whispered. “You’re my bestie, I don’t wanna see you die.”
She was holding on to the pillow.
Her mother had died.
She couldn’t open them.
She could hear the thud of the sheets, and the thud of the air coming down on her. But she still couldn’t open her eyes.

Did You Like What I Made? You can support me on Patreon. There is no exclusive content there but that way you can make sure these stories and renders keep on coming.

0 Comments

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: