Weeping sores oozed dark red ichor onto the creature’s shattered frame. Human no more, the ghoul quivered and spasmed with the pain that racked its entirety: body, mind, and soul. The only part remaining vaguely human, its heart, pumped the ichor through its broken body. Bone and flesh and tendon knitted themselves of their own accord. Unnatural speed yielded unnatural pain, and the ghoul yowled like a cat struck by a hot poker. Tears filled the dark pools that remained for its eyes.

This story I think epitomizes the way I felt this morning. Somebody’s got a case of the Mondays… The land lay enveloped in a thick,

In which I ramble about what my life would have been like hundreds of years ago and realize it’s probably way better now. If I

I’m trying something new. Every day I’ll write for 10 minutes. I won’t limit what I write to any particular thing. It could be fiction,

I’m trying something new. Every day I’ll write for 10 minutes. I won’t limit what I write to any particular thing. It could be fiction,

I’m trying something new. Every day I’ll write for 10 minutes. I won’t limit what I write to any particular thing. It could be fiction,

I’m trying something new. Every day I’ll write for 10 minutes. I won’t limit what I write to any particular thing. It could be fiction,

I’m trying something new. Every day I’ll write for 10 minutes. I won’t limit what I write to any particular thing. It could be fiction,