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Weekly Contest #314
I can't sleep. It's late at night, the only sound I hear is the distant hoot of an owl. The cracked window, creating a breeze in my neglected room, makes the sheer curtain sway. I wrap my purple blanket around my small frame, thinking of how my life was like just a few years ago. How happy I was, naive. My wooden floors, now lifted up from weather damage, and my door falling off its hinges. This small cottage, I now call home, is at the front of an open field. A slaughter house is on my right that I went in once, but after I saw the sharp ...
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