Sparks. Shadows, a world of darkness. There is no light to scare the creatures that hide, to illumination to share the beauty of colour, just darkness, just shadow. A pitch black landscape of silence, a
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Shriek
Shriek. A blood curling scream drifted through the air as the hunter’s scythe left a harrowing hole in the wraith’s torso. He fixed his hat and flourished his trench coat. His boots were wet
Continue ReadingThe Blastwave
The blastwave. The forest sang under the breaking dawn as morning dew ripped from the emerald blades of grass that swayed slightly in the wind. Daunting trees stared down at the forest below; the slanted
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