Description
Moments; singular, siphoned, like grains of sand which fall restlessly, and build without limits...growing with increasing momentum, each step, beat, a steady staccato , marking down the minutes until the cold inevitability of the ...end ...death. Moments...it's all anyone has. Life is a false illusion. Death is cold reality. I am a Treader. I deal in the currency of death, and I know everything there is to know about it's cold worth. I am useful, never loved. I am used, never thanked. I am need, want, and lust....but never needed or wanted. I am never fulfilled. I am never to know human happiness. I have accepted my designed fate. Why then am I being tested now?? What will happen if I give in to the temptation I know will be my undoing? What will happen if I give in...and love? What will my failure bring...and may those above and below have mercy on all souls, for when the Treader of death falls for life... Worlds End. RH*Mature Content*Advisable only for 18 and over
Chapter One: Blood Tells
