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Journals by Crystal-Marie, by newest first

  • A Midnight Stroll... Or Not
    Running as fast as she can, bare feet slapping the cold hard ground. Clothes snagging on the thorn bushes; grabbing at her. Her arms and legs are torn open, bleeding. Hair dirty and ratted. Crescents of dirt lodged under her nails, and on he tear streaked face. Scared to death of what is coming. Cold wind stings her
    by Crystal-Marie on May 4 10:57 AM, In Spur of the moment.  200 words. → Make first comment?