In the shadow of the Fortaleza Quetecallas, there is a town, a perfect and picture-esque town. It is the finally bastion against the rapidly growing industrialization surrounding them. Oh, there are many wonderful things about this town.
Natives could wax poetically about the greenary surrounding them, and a listener would be enthralled. City-dwellers would come and inhale the sweet mountain air in awe.
'Have you ever smelled anything so pure?' It was doubtful that shade of verd came in any box of artificial colors.
Everyone knew everyone, and they were the envy of the surrounding towns.
UNTIL ONE DAY A COVERSE CLAD FOOT CAME DOWN AND SMASHED THEM ALL.
The End.
Guess who has writer's block? This was the start of a brilliant short story, until I forgot where I was going somewhere around sentence numero dos. I figured this was a good enough post.
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EY YO
- Sabina
- Chicago, Illinois, United States
- Mirame, what do you see? Una chaparrita, con pelo del durango? Or maybe a neat little white girl, a 'dark forest' German, Pole, Dutch, Swed?
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