She walked the line, like an experienced tightrope acrobat, as if her life depended on it. Because it did.
To everyone else, he was charming and generous. No one would believe her, even if she trusted someone enough to tell.
Her world was a series of apologies and pretending.
Thank God for makeup.
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
If you like what you read, feel free to leave a tip, I would love some feedback
Find me on twitter @kelli7958958
or facebook
Keep reading
More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Oh, craps. This is a hard hitter!
Wow, that sad. She needs to strangle him with that tightrope.
And now we have motive (justifiable) for both the handgun & the axe. I gotta say, Kelli, you sure do know how to tell a story..., & stringing them together makes them even more interesting.
Oh, man! This is so true; nailed it. Amazing! 😍
Ouch!! This one hits hard. Well done.