@wearemany: “ there are no creeps. there are no heroes. there are only people who are alive and people who are fucking dead !”
millions of people die a day; shelly has been waiting for six months. she’s seen souls come and go, taking their turn to cross the bridge to the other side. some of them, shelly has even aided in their journey, if there is unresolved business tying them to a life now left behind. never once has shelly encountered a soul like this; in a place so serene and bright, something, or someone, so dark — a presence so ... odious, sticks out like a sore thumb.
shelly shakes her head firmly, “i don’t think you belong here.” as cold as the remark is, there is a distinctive lack of frost in her tone. though shelly resists the break of her voice, her wary step back speaks volumes. shelly’s tone sharpens with her next remark; “you’re in the wrong place, buddy — that bridge isn’t for you to cross.”
inbox content: the guy who didn’t like musicals.