How lovely, she thought,
To keep what was given to you.
About the Creator
Ella Bogdanova
Drop by drop I mourn the sea.
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Winterthorne
Winterthorne stood alone at the edge of the park. The beautiful snow that had surrounded him was all trampled now, from the feet of all of the children who had built him. He missed the sparkly clean snow blanket, but he was happy that so many children had come out to make him.
By Laura DePace6 days ago in Fiction
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