Killing the Last Sweet Cherry

August 27 is the day I died.

I said it was a bright, sunny day, with a lake and sunshine.

Rotten cherries rolled along the shore. Water-soluble oil pastels stained the lake red, and a sickly sweet, fishy smell hung in the air.

[Reading Guide]

I. A half-true, half-false work of melodramatic whining. Read with caution.

II. A dull record of a girl's life. It might be crap.

III. Healing and depressing, Mary Sue and non-mainstream.

IV. No entry. Get out while you can.

Theme: One day, we'll grow into people nothing can break.