At this moment, it seems God is praying in heaven, holy light shining down to guide the world.
But above a small town in the south, it is as if someone has pressed fast-forward. Dark clouds silently whirl and gather at incredible speed.
The girl curled helplessly on a black-and-white checkered bed squints against the light from above, her eyes filling with tears. The blood slowly drains from her sharply contoured, gaunt face.
A pool of blood lies beneath the bed.
Drops of blood fall ceaselessly from the girl's almost translucent white wrist.
Crash! The white light fades, and darkness descends.
Drip, drip, drip, drip...
This world is so cold.
I dedicate this story to Leslie and his Passion Concert.
Love can make an angel fall and become a devil.
But everyone is the glory of creation.
I am who I am, a firework in a different color.
I like myself.
I hope people can like themselves no matter what, and live a brilliant life.
Written on April 1, 2014
In terms of taste, it tastes good enough. But the text is a bit messy. It doesn't feel very comfortable to me, but I don't know if it was a deliberate arrangement by you. Come on~