This is in response to the 37 word weekend challenge found here. A black inkwell spills on the clean cement Trails of words the bread crumbs mark Splattering across the delicate cracks Deeply soaked in the dark underground Never forgotten A long lost tale so simple and elegant morphology.

The Cooridor

This story is in response to the November Speculative Fiction Prompt found here. The sound of an incessant drip continued to echo throughout the underground corridor as I continued forward, backpack strapped to my shoulders and my high heals in hand. I stopped caring long ago that the stiletto snapped in half as I ran … Continue reading The Cooridor