The Lost Girl

“I remember her about as well as anybody else. Obviously, there are gaps.”

“Really? And how much do you remember about her?”

A nostalgic smile wet my lips. “Oh, plenty. Her curly hair, her cute little dresses, her laugh…I really loved her…”

He sneered. Gooseflesh rippled across my arm.

“Are you…laughing?”

His clawed hand reached from the bathtub and grabbed my hand. Water ran from his skin to mine. His eyes were aflame, more life burning inside of them than I had seen in many years.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)