Status: Probably will never be finished.
A Story of White
O, Phase 1
Drip, drop, pitter patter.
The sound of raindrops.
The sound of raindrops, as it hits the only window in this room.
I hated it when it rains.
Because, when it rains, the sky becomes dark, so very dark. It covers the beautiful blue sky with its black ugliness, no better than the white jail I lived in.
I was alone in this white prison.
Staring gloomily up out the only window I could not even reach, the raindrops continued to hit the glass, sending drops of water running down the glass like tears.
Tears, like the tears that ran down the cheeks of my sister years and years ago.
The sound of raindrops.
The sound of raindrops, as it hits the only window in this room.
I hated it when it rains.
Because, when it rains, the sky becomes dark, so very dark. It covers the beautiful blue sky with its black ugliness, no better than the white jail I lived in.
I was alone in this white prison.
Staring gloomily up out the only window I could not even reach, the raindrops continued to hit the glass, sending drops of water running down the glass like tears.
Tears, like the tears that ran down the cheeks of my sister years and years ago.