Novelas y relatos de Southwind Theater

I watched as Chris’s hand bleed more and more, as I swung the bag over my shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t be able to carry it with his shoulder anymore. “I can’t shoot well with my left hand, which means we’re almost as good as dead at the moment.” Chris gritted out as we slowly walked out of the warehouse, our shoes crunching loudly over hundreds of bullets. What the fuck did you do to result in this amount of people being after your life, Chris? I questioned him silently as I watched him glance around the streets carefully from side to side before cursing, quieting beneath his breath, and suddenly pushing me behind a big truck with a sharp nudge of his left elbow, making me stumble for a mom

The temperature dropped drastically, the wind that blew felt colder, piercing the skin's surface. The trees swaying in the wind dance a dance of death that is both beautiful and magical, their dance accompanied by the sound of dry leaves, and the leaves singing as the wind blows them. The hoarse singing was muffled, their singing was like a muffled screams. It was like someone who wanted to scream with his neck choking hard, someone who was in a transitional period between life and death. They sang and danced as if it was the end of the world. The last day that humanity can taste before everything is destroyed with nothing left

Janice's POV By the time I took the elevator downstairs, the movers from the moving company had arrived. "Ms. Walker, we'll start moving your things now." I nodded, and my phone buzzed with a message from Simon. [Where did you go? Don't just wander off like that.] I blinked. The chat window was a wall of my own bubbles, showing that I had always been the one reaching out. This sudden show of concern made my fingers tremble. The moment I opened the chat, another message popped up.