I close my eyes, gripping the empty clothes closer to me, shaking my head against the truth. I try to block out the words… Try to stop them… But they come, nonetheless, until finally I just stand here—not running, not even trying to escape. “You my dear, will suffer seven years of tribulation. You will be left behind…

I close my eyes, gripping the empty clothes closer to me, shaking my head against the truth. I try to block out the words… Try to stop them… But they come, nonetheless, until finally I just stand here—not running, not even trying to escape. “You my dear, will suffer seven years of tribulation. You will be left behind…

– Willowy Whisper –

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