This is where I dump my short stories, though sometimes I might write incoherent rabbles about issues that affect me.
Paul could hear the sirens of the alarm as he slowly straddled his way to the exit of the building. He's bleeding too much, and despite his best efforts the wound doesn't close.
"Damn it, is he using a cursed sword?"
The sound of gunshots can be heard in the distance as a young man answered his ringing phone.
"It worked, where's the Wheel, Lilac."
"Wait a sec."
"I don't have time for games."
"La la la."
Paul opened his eyes to the graceful melody that he heard. He was in a white room and in front of him is a young girl, playing a white piano, dressed in white.
"Where am I?"