The Dark shroud covers the town, the lights are going down. Hardly a mouse to walk the deserted streets. The Dark road's blood ceased to flow, and here I am walking through the woad. The midnight birds chirp, they hoot while the rest of the forest groans. A hunter arrived early, checking his snares and his grounds, and here I am walking through the woad. My room has calmed, the cat lay still. The dog is gone, and I here am in the woad. When I finally get home, the morning sun has rose. The Moon has gone to rest, I say goodbye to my fair woad. I rest for now, but my time will come, when the men of the hills lay down done for their rest too.
YOU ARE READING
Happy and Derranged
AcakI'm going to be writing a series of stories, hopefully all pretty short. They will show my frustration with life and the people around me. They'll also show what interests me.
