Photo of sunrise taken by: AJ
And one day archeologists will wonder,
What could compel someone to do
Something like that
To a beautiful thing
Like you
About the Creator
AJ
Because locking myself in a dimly lit house on the seaside and feverishly pouring my soul out on a typewriter is not available to me right now
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 20 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Sad but beautifully written.