Jack Virag

The fog buried everything.

Rain streaked across my face like paint, thick and blinding. I ran with my head down.

I let my breath guide me, and I followed it as far as I could; Then it ran out.

With no lantern I tried to see where I was, bludgeoned by torrential waves.

Paint splattered on the floor, from between my teeth I spit. The fog becomes tighter and I fall, to finally create the canvas that I envisioned over and over in my dreams.

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Jack Virag

Jack Virag

Writing briefly and unprofessionally about personal topics, mainly addiction.