Dear Writer’s Block

Dear Writer’s Block, It’s not you, it’s me. I just can’t go on living like this. And I should start being honest with myself. I know you help me get things done, especially around the house. You’re brilliant at helping with the dishes and the vacuuming. My house is always dust free and the lawn…

The Effigy

He pulled the body out of the ashes and pried open its charred hand. The cave smelled like seared pork mixed with a lavish aroma of smoky wood and sea-breeze. Most of the walls were covered in a green moss. Some of the embers were still glowing a bright crimson, emitting a comforting, warm aura…