Black.
Black.
Thick, dark, heaviness. There’s some comfort in that.

Norwegian Forest Cat
Peter pulled boots over calves lengthened and strengthened by his transition from boy to youth, and seasoned by grief over his sister’s death. Four years ago she’d been found in the depths of the Dark Wood, her cat pressed against her cold belly, hissing at all who approached. Continue reading
Lilimor gazed across the field of wild strawberries into the Great Wood. She didn’t have enough berries to fill her basket, but the fiddle called her to the waterfall within. Its song enticed, one she almost recognized and had to sing. Continue reading
Spoon coffee grounds into the BPA-free filter, the scent a bright hit in the ice-crystal kitchen. Cat slurps his morning meal, shoulders hunched protectively over his bowl. Continue reading
Vast ocean pounded a heavy drumbeat, intense wind carrying bright droplets up to the woman poised on cliff’s edge. A sheer of brine slowly covered her naked form.
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
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