It tolls for me
J.M.W. Turner Death on a Pale Horse, 1825-30
Missed It, Tis Life He stumbles across a green field of make-believe. Walking, distraction clings to each action. An infinite game of whack-a-mole, passion. Traveling down the water cut path, eventually he falls. Time and distance charm with dreams; curse with memories; and defy to be recalled correctly. Soon is the season of crawling. #flashfiction 50 words #fiction
Hesitant Sparkles Light glinted off the glass door as it pushed open. Marlene glowed as she came, smiling. She brighten even more when she saw me standing by my stool, hot tea still in hand. Waving, Marlene ordered her cup from the barista. “Hey, Short Stuff,” Marlene huffed...See more
Necromancer Endgame