In the blackness of a cold, dark night, death holds a red rose. It's scent so sweet and pure, withering in sadness if it's last moments. The raindrops tears shimmer on its petals in the night. The night smiles a bright crescent moon and the world suddenly felt peaceful. He lays the now dead rose, to shimmer it's beauty on a dark coal in the middle of the vast black ocean. The sun rises gold and red showing the blood shed and the rise of a new day. A new life.
Another rose buds in the garden
BINABASA MO ANG
Dead Men Tell No Tales
Short StoryA collection of short stories, occasionally poems and mostly horror and tragedy. Hope you enjoy!
