Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash
Chalk white flesh flashes
Between moonlit stalks of blue
Maize. The wolf peers out.
About the Creator
The Blue Ridge Stalker
Tom had left the Ford down the way, its spark plugs finally exhausted and no mechanics for a dozen miles back through the foothills to Strossburg. No matter, he had worn his boots—almost as if he planned for this to happen. The puzzle he sought to solve emanated from the woods clinging to the slopes above; the valley behind held no mysteries.
By Stephen A. Roddewig2 days ago in Fiction
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