When she was young, life seemed a fantasy. Folk songs and lullabies floating overhead promised peaceful slumber, but her days were numbered. Years rolled past. Fast. Half-hearted sentiment, money too often spent on drink pushed her beyond the brink of falling prey to all manner of lies. Still, prayers winged toward hopeful skies. Exploitation led to her demise once there was nowhere left to sink. She had no strength, no will to battle desperate days stretching into silent nights. No comfort came and the world walked all over her as she bathed in light without a penny to her name.
Straight from the back alley, this week’s Friday Fictioneers are here.
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