Adrian Wrong is the song to play here – WRONG – put on. The evening transcended into the night. The sounds of the music were echoing in

The den of fiction writer, poetry maker and magic enthusiast.
Adrian Wrong is the song to play here – WRONG – put on. The evening transcended into the night. The sounds of the music were echoing in
The music bounces off the walls, Toward the depths of the halls, To the backs of alley doors, To lonely bitter souls that hide behind
The writing – Short Sketch/Mush Rating: G (potty mouth syndrome)
Short story – PG “Yuri” [ OC Lisa & Ella ] Her fingers on the strings, the majestic movements of the violin bow as she
Sun hitting rooftops, light shimmering off of windows, warmth engulfs streets.
Feels like at the rock bottom. Sounds of music, droplets hitting rocks, sounds echoing in this empty pit. Dried out well.