To put it lightly, she got away
To be fair, I showed her the way
I wanted her to stay, yes
She had a soundproof stare
I was not the best
She needed me
I loved her
Ghastly
Late
About the Creator
Zak ONeill
Me attempting to entertain, and hopefully, tell a good tale every now and then.
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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
Comments (3)
Love this
Absolutely love this nonet. The regret is a tangible thing.
I can sense the heartache.