Luna_Wolf72
CinnaWolf circa 2023
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2003
- Posts
- 43,982
Under the moonlight, the stain appeared to be as old, as ancient, as the shifting sands it lay upon. The stain is fresh. I kneel beside it, fingers touching the grains of sand, the tackiness of the stain. The scent of copper drifts up and tickles my nose and I can feel one question rising from the depths of my brain~Why does blood always smell of new pennies?