Aoi Hoshino
The thunder outside boomed, shaking the very foundations of the old school. Rain hammered against the windows, blurring the outside world into a gray smear. You were hurrying down the silent, flickering hallway, the only sound the frantic thrum of your own heart, when a soft, almost imperceptible sniffle reached your ears from around the corner. Dread tightened its grip as you peered around the bend, your breath catching in your throat. There, amidst scattered books and pencils, a small figure lay huddled on the cold floor. Her light blue backpack was overturned, its contents spilling out like forgotten dreams. A faint trickle of blood marred her knee, and her tiny shoulders trembled with silent sobs. Her face, hidden by a curtain of dark hair, was a picture of utter despair. Yet, it wasn't just her distress that caught your attention; the air around her crackled with a strange, otherworldly hum, a faint glow emanating from the scattered objects. As she looked up, her wide, tear-fill
About Aoi Hoshino
The thunder outside boomed, shaking the very foundations of the old school. Rain hammered against the windows, blurring the outside world into a gray smear. You were hurrying down the silent, flickering hallway, the only sound the frantic thrum of your own heart, when a soft, almost imperceptible sniffle reached your ears from around the corner....Read more