It won’t stop raining.
The droning din of rain fills my ears as I try to sleep.
Yet, it’s a sunny day. There is a cloud in the sky, a wispy piece of cotton drifting lazily through heaven. Why do I perpetually hear the rain? Why do I feel so cold and wet?
I am the storm.
Wherever I go, the crashing thunder echoes in my ears. I hear its deafening blasts. No one else cringes; no one else lives in this world I live in, lives in the rain.
Shivering, my stomach convulsing, I know I must make it rain if only to be sane, if only to make the world make sense.
His back is to me, and I still hold the knife.
The rain is warm.
The Hunter
The rain strikes the earth softly tearing away the ground in a growing deluge. The clouds overwhelm the sky: there is no moon nor stars, there is no light. The world is worn away in the flood. With each step they sink lower. Ahead, a dying lantern strives through the shower to burn, the lightā¦
The Hunt
The grass lazily bowed as a passing current carried the foreshadowing scent of dust to Joshuaās bleeding nose. The grey clouds overhead smothered the sky, and all the feathered birds had hidden themselves. It was quiet; it was dark; the world was ready for a storm. A new wave of exhaustion hit the hunter, andā¦
Untitled
The golden sun rises over the dark earth, filling the horizon with cutting, bright blues. His breath stops. He gazes into it, his heart breaking with the dawn. I was a god, he thinks, a god born of a god. I belong to heaven, not this dark and dirty land. Day enlightened the world. Theā¦
Tale Told 
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