Finally…writing again. (Updated)

This is the first few sentences to something that’s been bouncing around in my head for weeks. Here’s hoping all of you like it enough to want more! **decided it needed a little more for you guys**

With all of the shit we’ve done, are doing, it’s hard to believe we were once children.

It’s hard to believe that the people standing in all of this horror and carnage were once young and innocent, playing games and laughing.

But now the laughter’s gone.

Gasoline poured everywhere: on the cash, on the hostages, the doors and windows. Sometimes you just realize that it’s never just about money. No matter how it starts off, in the end, it seems to come down to one act, one statement.


How did it start off? With anger. How else?

There were four of us to begin with. Four angry people, not far off from being kids.
Desperate and angry, we wanted it all, and then we wanted it all to burn.


About litbandit

El Bandito Bibliotequa...or something.
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