I don't know, it could be a start of a story.
The taste of blood remains here. Between teeth and teeth, tongue and throat. It's fascinating, for how close it is to me, for which I can easily observe it right here. I am not saying that I love it, I mean, it rot reminds me of the situation where I am. Because I am trapped here, under the huge, dark well, without water or anything to eat. And for any good, it is the taste of blood that reminds me to find a way out. But how? All surrounding me are smooth stones covered with moss, and nothing else. Disable to remember the reason why I'm here, out of ideas how to rescue myself, tired and sick, I sit here. There is nothing I can do.
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1
I don't know, it could be a start of a story.
The taste of blood remains here. Between teeth and teeth, tongue and throat. It's fascinating, for how close it is to me, for which I can easily observe it right here. I am not saying that I love it, I mean, it rot reminds me of the situation where I am. Because I am trapped here, under the huge, dark well, without water or anything to eat. And for any good, it is the taste of blood that reminds me to find a way out. But how? All surrounding me are smooth* stones covered with moss, and nothing else. Disable to remember the reason why I'm here, out of ideas how to rescue myself, tired and sick, I sit here. There is nothing I can do.(You said smoothy stones, which is not a proper adjective)
0
I don't know, it could be a start of a story.
The taste of blood remains here. Between
Gripping!
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