Milaita

Something dangerous is coming,something mysterious.Older than DaVinci,older than Shakespeare.Under the water,cold and dark,a faint rumbling noise,as a plane flies by.Sleeping, desiring, sleeping,a red

Misty Mountains, cold and dim, I place a finger upon the brim, of a hooded cloak of burlap, while I empty my animal trap. A troll swings a spiked club. ...

Tears, sadness, sudden hatred. My eyes a color matching blood red. My heart aching with fear. I could see, but could not hear. A winged child of only three, ...