Letting Life Lead
My skis skid on fresh powder and wind breaks my face. A presence pursues.
“Apparitions collect the unwary,” I had warned. The enthusiast didn’t believe what his camera couldn’t snare.
I chase speed to the bottom. Totem markers constrain Dame’ Wit — sucker of souls.
Mouthless, she demands, “More. Bring.”
writing, traveling, and tap dancing around town.
Leave your fear of the dark at the door, suspend your disbelief and come on in...
Writer and procrastinator
Warden of Words // Shaper of Stories
Bewitching Journey of Words to Meaning
This is the story of building a cottage , the people and the place. Its a reminder of hope and love.
Just your average PhD student using the internet to enhance their CV
Pen to paper
Oooh, creepy! I especially like the last line.
I like that this story is set outside. I always think of ghosts in graveyards and dark rooms.
The last line was so good, but so was Dame’ Wit!