Ghosts of the past...
Previous - this entry written on February 28, 2004 at 9:06 pm - Next
*faint smile*There's an entry I want written, I do I do... but I've no desire to explain its potential contents here, so it will simply have to wait until a time when I can talk to you online, little one. For the moment, a consolation prize, something I'll enjoy reading when the pain and coughing wake me next: There's a dark-haired boy sitting on the floor of your room. He's bruised pretty bad, worse than you've seen. No clothing but a pair of pants that he's having trouble keeping up (they're nearly falling apart and several sizes too large), lips dry and skin pale, clearly dehydrated and hungry. There's a bit of dried blood here and there across your floor, a faint bloody handprint on the door. Talk with him. Talk to him. Talk about him. *shrugs* I want to see.
Previous - Next
Hosted by Diaryland - All Rights Reserved - Image, Layout, and Content copyright Jax Raven - - Do Not Feed The Moose -
|