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creature, creature


He loved her as though she was the last breath he had from the world and she loved him as though he was the only light that could heat her weakening temperature. They loved each other, their hearts intertwined by the fate of the future held above their heads, more than they could have imagined the moment he handed her an object that would write more than just works of literature. It would write a destiny, a story in which fell too deeply in line with words Shakespeare had conceived in a book they read; it would write a life where two people convinced themselves that the monsters and demons that gravitated around them were non-existent. It would write that death took a soul earlier than pleaded, and a love written in the stars fell victim to the gravitational pull life could not give.

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