Tick. I look up from my book. It's some boring, dry piece of literature they had the audacity to call a classic. The clock looks at me assumingly from its position upon the mantle.
By Elizabeth Pugh Ruiz4 years ago in Horror
“How’s the color today, Missy?” Missy smiled weakly as she paid for her coffee. “Same as always.” Benjamin, Missy’s barista, winked, the smile wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. “It’s gonna change. It’s gonna change.”
By Elizabeth Pugh Ruiz4 years ago in Fiction
