Jatin Sharma
Bio
"If You're Not Busy Being, Then You're Busy Dying"
Stories (2/0)
Book #1
It was before the hands struck afternoon when the white sun crisply peeved his way into the cloudy abyss of a cruel winter's day. It fractured upon meeting the slow icy fragments, as it scattered its homage across the shaded lands and spread lovingly its dark warmth. As the natural gloom mingled with the bitter wind, the streets remained uncurious.
By Jatin Sharma5 years ago in Horror
He Hurt, She Hurt
Hungers harrowed her handsome head, hurting her holy hallways while heavy hurdles hovered haughtily. Haggling heroically, her helping hands held his hopeless honour, harmonising the handicapped horrors her holy hips held hastily. Hauntingly, his hellish hisses hound, hypnotising her halfhearted happiness when he harrows his harpoon heavenward. Hypnotically, her humble head howled. When her hedges hurt, her hiding heart hid. With her hooded hopes helplessly held high, his hosting hands held hard. His humid hot-head had harmed her, halting her humanity hatefully. Her heart had heard harps while her halo hallowed with her head hanging happily. He hurt, she hurt.
By Jatin Sharma5 years ago in Poets