Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧ ▬ ˋˏ 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 ˎˊ ▬ ✧ ❝ 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒔 ❞ ༻#ˋ 。✩ 。ˊ#༺ in death we trust
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
❝ as her body rotted in the riverit happened / (very slowly) that God forgot about her❞
CONCERNING A DROWNED GIRL / BERTOLD BRECHT.
﹙ chapter one, act one ; the coming storm ﹚ mara cayden.
darkmoor, district eleven. july, 70 att.
THE WIND IS PICKING UP, WHISTLING THROUGH THE GAPS IN THE BUILDINGS. It creates a high pitched whine that sets Mara even further on edge, grinding her teeth as the sound echoes throughout the dirt paths and shabby houses of Zone C. She's only too glad to leave behind the bunched mass of houses, the cries of children whose stomachs will never be full. The sky is a dark shade of grey, a far cry from the usual summer blue. The ground burns the feet of those who cannot afford shoes, making her grateful for her sandals three sizes too small. A beggar, bundled in blankets and stick thin, whispers to himself, loud enough for her to hear.
