Comments Posted By applebees

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The playground stank of rotting things and waste. The forgotten children had died a frostbitten death, caught in the intricately woven traps. He approached the traps to harvest his fruitful catch, smiling triumphantly. Another good week. Cold, nevertheless good. The sound of silence was broken as the younglings fell to the snow with a crunch, released from death’s metal rope. It was getting late, and he had to hurry, he could hear Them. His frantic heartbeat drummed with Their footsteps.

» Posted By applebees On 02.15.2014 @ 11:13 pm

The playground sat, abandoned, desperate for love. It was lonely, cold. It yearned to be loved like it was before, its tenuous heartbeat throbbing through the winter day. WHat.

» Posted By applebees On 02.15.2014 @ 8:23 pm

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