Photo by Alice Triquet on Unsplash
Blue is number five
Blue puddles I play and splash
When it's raining 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. Roddewig4 days ago in Fiction
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