When the news of his sister’s death came it was delivered
with a child so small, that it could have only been a few days old. Swathed in
a red blanket and carried by a Dreymew soldier.
“I told her to wait, that I was going to get help.”
His eyes widened. “You told her to wait?”
“Yes.” "Careful! Don't make the plants bleed..."
Poetry:
Crier's Release
Rain Poem - Storm
Shorts:
Young Death
Work for Clive Barker Podcast:
Hellraiser - A First Timer's Review
The Thief of Always - A Review
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