L.A. Grant
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Stories (2)
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The Last Grave
James crawled out from underneath his 1964 Pontiac GTO, wiping the grease of his hands with an old rag. He gave her a loving caress on her sparkling red hood. He had been fixing the car up since he bought it from a junkyard three years ago, and she had come a long way from the rusted and neglected thing that once was. He walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door, sliding into the impeccable black leather seat. He turned the key in the ignition and smiled as it purred to life. James sat there in his own personal satisfaction, listening to her run. He sighed and slumped down in his seat, reaching into his pocket and brandishing his hunting knife.
By L.A. Grant4 years ago in Fiction
Tomb Of Glass
Kaphelirea didn't know how long she had been trapped within the ice. She felt as though centuries had passed since she cried herself to sleep on the icy bank of the pond. She could no longer hear the flute of Pan, or the soft melodic songs of her sisters.
By L.A. Grant4 years ago in Fiction
