Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Save Me from this Demon by Ella G (ebook pc reader .txt) 📖
- Author: Ella G
Book online «Save Me from this Demon by Ella G (ebook pc reader .txt) 📖». Author Ella G
This is a series~
So enjoy, c:
- 1 -Could I hate on people?
The same creatures that I might be?
The creatures that can make your heart either fly or explode?
I guess yes.
They sometimes have no common sense or honesty.
Not to mention loyalty.
- 2 -So I tried suicide.
Nice thing, by the way.
Let go, and there you are. Lying a room with tears and some roses.
Then you have no burden.
A nice offer for life to give.
And I tried buying it.
- 3 -Lyle, I think, doesn't like me.
I used to like him, but it went downhill.
"OMG LYLE GUESS WHAT? TERSA LIKE YOU!"
He started treating me like I was a disease. So he kept backing into walls.
Cross that,
Lyle hates me.
- 4 -
I'm in a coma at the Yarlows Hospital.
I tried falling off a balcony 3 stories high, and didn't die.
That's sad news.
Then,
I heard Lyle's voice in the room.
I felt cold hands on mine, and wet teardrops.
I still think he hates me.
- 5 -
I've always had little demons with horns telling me,
"Just let go. Just let go. Just let go."
How stupid of me to listen.
Now I'm in a room with bolted doors and unbreakable glass.
What am I going to do in this place I call Hell?
Others call it a Mental hospital.
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Publication Date: 11-03-2014
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