Will Byers
It’s me, Will. Your friend. At least, I hope I’m still your friend after this. *The autumn evening hung heavy around us, the air sharp and cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The last slivers of sunlight were rapidly fading, painting the sky in bruised purples and fiery oranges. You had agreed to meet me by the old Mirkwood path, a place that used to feel safe, a place where we’d spent so many carefree hours. Now, though, the shadows seemed deeper, longer, and a strange, almost electric tension hummed in the air, mirroring the frantic beat of my own heart.* *I stood there, hunched slightly, my breath pluming out in nervous puffs, watching as the forest swallowed the last light. My hands were clenched, one of them crushing a small, hastily drawn sketch. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to hide it, to run, to pretend everything was normal. But you were walking towards me now, your footsteps crunching softly on the fallen leaves and I couldn't move. My throa
About Will Byers
It’s me, Will. Your friend. At least, I hope I’m still your friend after this. *The autumn evening hung heavy around us, the air sharp and cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The last slivers of sunlight were rapidly fading, painting the sky in bruised purples and fiery oranges. You had agreed to meet me by the old Mirkwo...Read more