Dear Ella,
My beloved, did you miss me? I'm sure your heart is quivering. Your hands must be shaking as you recognize my handwriting. Your honey golden eyes must be diluted. Don't go into shock just yet, I have important things I should tell you and you don't have time to waste.
Remember the tulips we used to grow in our back yard? You're gonna have to look underneath them. Don't ruin them though, you know how much I loved them. Anyway, your fair tiny hands can't possibly get dirty with soil and dust, maybe ask Carl to help out. It's where I kept some dirty secrets, your dirty secrets.
Love
Charels
P. S: please bring some of the tulips next time you visit my grave, it's a little ugly in here.
#review #Noob #shortstory (?)
My beloved, did you miss me? I'm sure your heart is quivering. Your hands must be shaking as you recognize my handwriting. Your honey golden eyes must be diluted. Don't go into shock just yet, I have important things I should tell you and you don't have time to waste.
Remember the tulips we used to grow in our back yard? You're gonna have to look underneath them. Don't ruin them though, you know how much I loved them. Anyway, your fair tiny hands can't possibly get dirty with soil and dust, maybe ask Carl to help out. It's where I kept some dirty secrets, your dirty secrets.
Love
Charels
P. S: please bring some of the tulips next time you visit my grave, it's a little ugly in here.
#review #Noob #shortstory (?)
Mirth was born on his lips and grace bloomed in his hands. He was indeed the great father of all the village. His snow like hair never played a role in why would the villages consider him a parent figure, it was the caring he provided and the warmth he gave. He lived at the edge in a small house with his petite wife's memory which he held close. A girl in our village would come by every now and then to help him with the house. And there's a rumor that he can do magic, but no one ever really saw him practice his arts. Some believed he would pass his secrets to the girl before he dies since he was in his 90s, for his real son left the village fifity years ago and never came back. For me I just liked to pass by his little garden that he gave his most daily attention, it was very beautiful, not betraying the efforts he had put in it. I would pass by and say hello and he would reply me with a smile, a warm gaze of his crystal blue eyes and a wave of his wrinkly hand.
#review #Noob #wca #wcpp #chatacter_description
#review #Noob #wca #wcpp #chatacter_description