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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021
Weekly Contest #92
Moonlight washed the wet earth of the empty garden. Bela’s feet soaked it in. There was nothing to do now that it was done. Now that she had said those wicked things. Her coral-pink lips, now dry of the venom she had spewed, were greying with the darkening clouds, dry and sealed shut like an aging wound. I pray that you die, blind man. And your world remains black. She felt regret, but more pain. No, hate. Anger. She had slapped him, then taken the cross from the table and knocked it on his balding head, muttering curses like a frenz...
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