My first short story.
There is nothing in these halls. No life that breathes, no wind that blows. Just him and this eternal void. This is the life he’s been cursed with.
My second short story.
They say that a parent falls for their child the moment they first lay their eyes on them.
A two storey villa is dark, doused in gloom even during the beautiful paranoma of the spring…
Suddenly she remembers.
It wasn’t either, folly or might. In the end, he realises, bravery was always tinted with a tinge of insanity.
The Snakes Fly.
Not a short story, but an eight part work in progress.
They say that all fictional stories begin with something grand, or at least they lead to something phenomenal. This story however begins with muddy boots, drenched dresses, and words spoken too loud in moments of hysteresis.