One Night By The River by p.a. morbid

The moonlight spread on the river like spilled milk, while the moon itself had a buttery coolness. They came along the river path, their hunger sated on a lonely drunk they’d found among the ghosts of St. Hilda’s, the old, dead centre of Middlesbrough. Continue reading One Night By The River by p.a. morbid

Taps by DC Diamondopolous

Peter crouched in front of the attic window and gazed down on old man Mueller’s cornfield. The plow, unhitched beyond the stalks, turned north like he meant to continue but got interrupted. Continue reading Taps by DC Diamondopolous