George Morrison
A two-sentence horror story:
I woke this morning to darkness and the smell of rotted wood. I ran my fingers along the gritty brick walls that confined me; the only sound was that of my own heartbeat, and I realized with a pulse of fear that I was trapped in a story by Poe.
I woke this morning to darkness and the smell of rotted wood. I ran my fingers along the gritty brick walls that confined me; the only sound was that of my own heartbeat, and I realized with a pulse of fear that I was trapped in a story by Poe.
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Oct 23, 2020 09:21AM · flag
Oct 23, 2020 10:43AM · flag