There is not enough time because of course there isn’t, a slurry of blame and doubt falling into the town so much like rain. There are people dying, people missing, slaughtered sheep corpses staining the graveyard. You’ve got blood caked under your nails and scales itching their way up your hip and you know, you know, you know there is something rotten here.

Author: corvidcraft

What's up! I'm a northern Canadian artist/writer. Poli sci student by education, acrylic painter by passion.

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