Beggining to my story (may offend, sorry)
This may offend some people. This story is sad. I hope you like it.
He lay there, curled up on the cold grass, shivering. Glass lay on the floor, his glasses shattered. His clothes where ripped to shreds. Laughs could be heard from the distance, but as they laughed tears fell to the wet grass from his battered eyes. Blood dripped down his bony hand, and he didn’t move. Not at all. He lay silent, but inside his head, the noise was atrocious.
The day drew to an end, and the sky darkened, and the moon shone bright. Footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. He was on his way home, his clothes where blood stained, and his staggered without his glasses. His bare feet scraped on the stone, and tear fell from his eyes in pain.
He finally reached the door of his home. He lifted his torn hand and knocked weakly on the door. The door slowly opened. There his Dad stood. His face, angry, he grabbed his son by his hair and dragged him inside. Screams where heard by his neighbours. The peaceful night was rather disturbed.
(not finished)
Please c an c, sorry that it was strong.
