figureofspeech

Vance sat on a park bench as the sun and shadow washed over him as quickly as the passing centuries. He pushed his sunglasses against the bridge of his nose ...

In a pitiful attempt to smooth them, each wrinkle became a deeper crease. The woman sighed. She held her iron more tightly. Held tightly, wrapped up in someone….She shook her ...

The group nervously went forward. Each step a venture. They eyed the trees with suspicion. Rhinegold was sure that there were things watching him from the brush. Anluan wasn’t perturbed ...