A short story; a red rose

This week in the Netherland it is the week of the short story, so in honour of this I wrote my own; As the moon is walking the sky he walks across central station with a red rose in his hand. I woman stops him "Do you know how I get to platform 2A". He …

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What was feared came marching

Blood from the lost colour the street red. Tears from love overflow the gutter. disbelieve from souls fills the mouth. Fear from the people inhabits the street. What was feared came marching down the street. What was warned came without a warning. What was loved was taken. Let us unite, let us win. A terrible …

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