The corpses are piled high around. Blood carpets the floor and flames scorch away the last remnants of humanity. The screams of the damned echo in my head. I smile. I am home.
The corpses are piled high around. Blood carpets the floor and flames scorch away the last remnants of humanity. The screams of the damned echo in my head. I smile. I am home.
The corpses are piled high around. Blood carpets the floor and flames scorch away the last remnants of humanity. The screams of the damned echo in my head. I smile. I am home.
You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children. — Madeleine L'Engle, Author