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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    furitive descend And how queer, I thought to myself as the two men slipped their filthy tools from their scabbards and set upon eachother like a pack of rabid dogs and the stench of virgin blood caressed my nostrils and I lifted my head, and bore my teeth and smiled, and...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Her fingers peck the keyboard, her mind wanders astray. Those oceanic eyes of hers are fixed so far away. She can feel every single thing, Yes, it’s clear as day. Scrutinizing eyes at her back, which only further her dismay. She knows that she’s not wanted here, like a...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    The wind licked the hunter’s face as he trudged through a freshly fallen bank of snow. It chapped his lips and singed his nose, reddening his face to the hue of a midsummer tomato. His wispy hair fell across his face in a greasy curtain; shielding his eyes from the perils abound, but making sight ...

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