Drip… The monotonous sound of a leaky faucet. Drip… Of rain in a downspout. Drip… Of blood falling from the opening of a fresh wound. Drip… “Counting down the blood in my hourglass. Drip by,” Drip… “How else would I keep time?” Drip… “Born backwards,” Drip… “Living to die.” Drip… “How else would you measure a year in my life?”

Prologue: Lost Girl Found

The seeming eyes of a gargoyle look out on the dark city streets as a figure skulks in the shadows perched in pocket of a building’s windowsill overlooking the moonlit City skyline. It may seem as shimmering and clear as crystal in the dead of this night as one looks to the sky for future... Continue Reading →

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: