DiscordDiscordDiscord11 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Discord does strike with its horrendous hand. In dusty ashes, this tattered heart fell sweetly. From which ill wind of fate will the last cries be heard on grieving ears. Soft rose petals flow on a soft evening breeze, still warm from her last gentle touch. The clear jade eyes shall never again see the pale peach of the morning sun. Without the faint smile that lit her face so beautifully, a pale ghost that should not be. As news spread of her final breath, those who loved her are drawn together as she once drew them, only this time without their core. For all their future time, they will remember that little girl whose life was lost one night in cold November.