Vintage Home Furniture

tell me what you think of this short story?

The desperate drug addict stumbled into his dimly lit cheap apartment room. He looked around nervously as his paranoia crept up on him. It was hard to see, for the room was dark and his eyesight was blurry. His careless steps made an echoing noise on the bare floor as he cautiously walked over to the window and looked out. He turned around almost losing his balance to see if someone else was in the room. He saw nothing but the same old worn-out furniture. However, there was a presence. Someone sitting silently crouched in a corner. Unaware, the anxious druggie fell to his knees to the small glass table before him. His heart was beating as fast as a falling brick. He snorted his addicting lines of cocaine and shot up his precious heroine. “This is the last time.” He repeated to himself over and over again. Yet nothing could stop the deadly venom seeping through his veins now. Nothing except for the face of a little young girl the quietly appeared from the shadows as she innocently asked, “Daddy, is that you?…” -justina easter ooops. i have a few grammar mistakes. but disregard those, please. rate it from 1 to 10

Public Comments

1. INTRESTRING.