Outside, the fog blurred the road behind them, clearing their path to a new life with a safe bed, quiet nights, deeper dreams and lighter hearts.
The radio didn’t work anymore, but sometimes she could still hear their voices—sometimes they laughed at her, sometimes they taunted her to go outside, sometimes they pleaded for help.
Finding Bernard and the girls was the best thing that happened to her.
For a minute, she imagined her in that world and wondered what the air smelled like, what the trees sounded like when the wind ruffled their leaves, how wet soil felt under her fingers.
I know what’s coming: ruin, for all of us, and I can’t stop it.
Her choices were simple: cleanse or sacrifice.
She didn’t fear disappearing as much as forgetting.
Don't look at the moon. Stay indoors tonight.
This week, a short story about a woman alone in the woods reconnecting with the feelings she thought she had left behind.
This week, a poem about what I call home and some inspiring stuff from the internet.
This week, a short story about a young man far, far away watching disaster unfold. Also, some inspiring stuff from the internet that I hope you'll enjoy.
