“This is real, Myshka. Say it isn’t, and the world will dim, and the heavens, the stars themselves will fall to this Earth, the ground will tremble like rolling ocean, and They will shout in fury.” His soft accented voice burned into her. Myshka closed her eyes and leaned back into him. “Say it isn’t real, and the dream will shatter in your unwilling hands, the sun will rise and never set, and you will forever be bathed in daylight until your memories flee forever of the comforting, silent, cool dark.”
Softly, she breathed into his ear. “This isn’t real.”
 Attingere · Mon Feb 19, 2007 @ 09:50pm · 0 Comments |
