The Eraser of California
His old blood shot eyes darted this way and that- searching for the perfect soul to devour. He wreaked like sour milk, rotten eggs, and moldy fish paste. Fur like that of a wolf gene suddenly mixed with a three year old dead porcupine, sliding horribly off his silk stained back. He scratched behind his ear cutting himself with his nine inch claws His beak orange-ish yellow turned golden as the sun slunk low below the mountains, gnashed angrily waiting, waiting for the wonderful kill. He walked so slunk over that you couldn't tell if he had a hunchback or not. His wings flared out looking hawkish yet dark as a raven flying through a pitch black night. He used to be a baby boy. that was before the white coats took him from his parents. His blue jeans, turquoise shirt, and high tops were stained with the blood of the innocent. His name was Colin.
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Short stories
Short StoryJust a few short stories that I have written. The number after the titles are the grade that I was in when I wrote them. Also they are really short, but some of them were bellringers and we only had 5 minutes to write them.
