In my wanderings, I often find myself traipsing a barren land. From horizon to horizon the ground stretches dry and cracked, riddled like puzzle pieces with the long-gone memory of water. Gray haze blows across the sky, blocking out the sunlight like smoke from an unseen fire. But I smell no ash, only empty heat. … Continue reading The Hopeful Wanderer – A Barren Heart
Tag: original fiction
Dumpster Mimicry
I ran across bait this morning.

