For a spell in May, We become like hanging fire— Ousting all wrinkles.
By Justin Asa Thornwood 3 years ago in Poets
Palms grasped idly, in the pursuit of starlight thread; Embers part on longing souls, and more the midnight bled.
"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say." Such haunted words echo still, like a bell tolling in the distance...
By Justin Asa Thornwood 3 years ago in Fiction
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It's flame a beacon midst the rot and wear; A frail comfort for those who dare enter unannounced and unwelcome.
By Justin Asa Thornwood 4 years ago in Horror
