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Amaya3176

  • Fear

    Derived from the deepest shadows, feeding off of fear Growing with each passing sundown, dieing with the dawning light They’re looking forward to the future, stinking of pain and blood ...

    • Poetry
    • Dramatic
    2 min read


For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein