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Elara didn't run. You can't run when there’s nowhere to go but down. She swung the heavy iron key like a hammer.

"Proper story’s supposed to start at the beginning. Ain't so simple with this one." lh11rar

But as she reached the edge of the district, something moved in the dust. A Scrapper—a twisted mess of metal and bad intentions—pulled itself out of the wreckage. It didn't have eyes, but it knew she had the key. Elara didn't run

I find it so hard to come up with stories (for the first time) : r/writing lh11rar