The House on Front Street
In the lane, slush sits heavy on the sides of the road, half-hearted snow still lingering in the centre of
Author: Wren
The Mother of us All
The air is a presence against my skin. Strangers here have called it oppressive; air that you can taste, that
The Demon Within
The fire paints the night black. In the village there were stars in the sky, a faint blush of dawn
That Witching Hour
[Deadyetawake149] (1:42am): You there? [Whispersthroughthemadness] (1:42am): Always. [Deadyetawake149] (1:44am): I’m thinking again. Too much. [Whispersthroughthemadness] (1:45am): Wish I could help.
The Case of the Smoking Gun
I knew she was trouble when she walked through the door. No one wears an evening gown at two p.m.
Love [luhv] – noun. 1. You.
Shakespeare compared his love to a summer’s day, and when old words lost their luster, he crafted new ones to
The Red Rose of Shelby
They called me the Red Rose of Shelby. I’m not sure if it was supposed to be sweet, or sultry,
Crimson
And she’ll dance in the dark with the fire at her heels and she’ll never stop looking for more. And
The Shadow Within
I am the monster in the dark. The shadow under your bed, the lurking presence beyond the barred door. I
Remnants
This is what he came down to. It fits in the small of my hand, these remnants. They’re meaningless. Hold