I had no genuine friendships, bar one. His name was Abraham. My parents dubbed him imaginary and dismissed me. He may have been invisible, but he was real to me. So I proved it. Flour dusted on the floor made my parents angry. Then they saw footprints forming in the particulate.
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I enjoyed writing something that was intentionally supposed to be super short.
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The Journal - A Short Story Collection
Short StorySliding down a sandy set of what used to be stairs, you see at the end of the room a book. After all this time of searching the ruins of this lost city, you find a journal, unmarked as to who wrote it, and very worn down due to the years. Taking it...
